


Seeing Double

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Yuuri and Victor compete against each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: There is a strange rumour going around about Yuuri Katsuki: the Japanese skater is actually two people – the seductive one skates the short program while the innocent one skates the free skate. It all sounds really ridiculous, but for some reason skating legend Victor Nikiforov believes this to be true. And now the seductive one seems to be taking an interest in Victor. Will Victor realize what is really going on before he makes a complete fool of himself?An AU where Yuuri continues with Celestino as his coach and Victor thinks that Yuuri is two different people.





	1. Just a Silly Rumour

**Author's Note:**

> This story was actually inspired by this art: http://hartlands.tumblr.com/post/153536278187/yuri-on-ice-sketches

The change room was full of skaters coming and going, talking and putting on their skates. In one of the corners two of them were busy gossiping.

“Did you see him in the Cup of China?”

“I did! And I caught myself thinking that it’s almost as if – oh, hello, Victor!”

Five time world champion, the living figure skating legend, a twenty-seven year old man with the good looks of a model – in short, Victor Nikiforov – walked into the room and instantly became the centre of attention.

He smiled and waved politely at everyone.

The two gossipers went on, keeping their eyes on the newcomer:

“- there are two Yuuris, you know: the innocent one and the seductive one.”

They giggled at this idea.

“Either way they both make my skin crawl. In a good way. Goosebumps! That’s the expression, isn’t it? Which do you like best?”

“I don’t know. I see him skate the Eros routine and I think I can melt, but the Free Skate melts my heart even more, but in a different way.”

They nodded at Victor who stopped to put his skates on next to them. “And how are you, Victor?” one of them said. “Sleep well?”

“Wonderfully well.” He gave them a big smile. “Who were you talking about just now?”

“Yuuri Katsuki. Have you met him?”

“Hmmm…” Victor frowned, trying to recall other skaters in previous competitions. “Didn’t he compete in last year’s Grand Prix Final?”

“And got last place. That’s him! He’s completely different this year.”

“I guess I’m about to see that for myself. Time for practice!” He waved at them as he left.

 _What did they say? There are two Yuuris? Wouldn’t that be against the rules?_ He shook his head. _What a silly rumour!_

 

Yuuri Katsuki, twenty-three years old and secretly wondering if it was time for him to retire, listened to his coach talk.

“Remember, Yuuri, focus on the theme and don’t think about the jumps.”

“H-how can I do that when I’m going to compete against _him_ again?” His voice shook in embarrassment. He stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.

Celestino sighed. “Think of him as just another skater, Yuuri.”

“And this will be his home turf too!”

“Yes.” He was getting sick of this argument, but that was the way with Yuuri. The boy needed a lot of encouragement and careful handling. “Look, you’ll be skating Eros first, so…” Celestino’s voice trailed off as he noticed the subject of their conversation walk in. He was quite possibly the last person Celestino wanted to see right now.

“Hello, Celestino!”

“Ciao, ciao, Victor.” Celestino tried to keep the resigned tone out of his voice. Yuuri lowered his head further as if trying to hide his face. If he didn’t do something right away, Yuuri wouldn’t even make it to the Grand Prix Final this year.

Victor strolled over to them looking like someone who was about to start a long conversation that would probably include phrases like “didn’t I see you last year at the Grand Prix Final”. That would only make Yuuri’s mood worse.

Celestino gave Victor the kindest smile he could. “I’m really glad to see you, Victor, but Yuuri is too busy to talk right now. He needs to go over his routine again.” He put a hand over Yuuri’s clenched fingers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Listen to me, Yuuri,” he said quietly, “you are the best skater and the others only have to see it. They will only see it if you _show them_.”

Yuuri raised his eyes and Celestino could only marvel at the innocence in them. The boy believed everything Celestino said, he was certain of it. He resisted the urge to tease him and went on:

“You have something none of them have.” Flattery, in his experience, always helped so he liked to lay it on nice and thick. “You have a talent for getting your message across. You really _live_ your stories. People see that and they like it. Remember the Cup of China.”

Yuuri nodded. His friend Phichit, who also trained under coach Celestino, won gold in that competition, but Yuuri had come really close. He felt the panic from the day of the Free Skate resurface inside him.

“But –” he started to protest, “but I… How can I dance Eros when…” He tilted his head at the ice where Victor was practicing his routine.

And then Celestino had the kind of idea that came to people at 2 am and sounded like utter madness the morning after. “That’s easy, Yuuri.” He nudged him gently. “Forget the competition. Pretend you’re seducing Victor Nikiforov.”

“What?” Yuuri’s exclamation was loud enough to be heard on the other side of the rink. Heads turned to see what all of the commotion was about. Yuuri put his hands over his mouth, blushing furiously. “H-how?” he whispered, pulling his hands away. “How can I do that?”

“Goodness, Yuuri! I’m not asking you to take him out on a date. I’m asking you to pretend you’re skating to seduce him. You have a wonderful imagination and the Eros routine is perfect for it anyway!” Celestino was starting to get carried away with the idea and could barely keep his voice down.

Yuuri looked across the ice at Victor and watched the Russian skater do a quadruple flip. He gulped and nodded. “I-I’ll do it.”

“That’s my Yuuri!”

Coach Celestino had never let him down before, Yuuri tried to tell himself. He was an excellent coach and Yuuri had to trust his instincts.

He took a deep breath.

_Was it too late to back out now?_

He looked at Victor Nikiforov again. His idol nailed another quad and gave a smug smile, obviously very pleased with himself. Yuuri remembered the embarrassment of his loss the previous year. He remembered sitting in his room that evening, knowing that everyone else was at the banquet and promising himself that the next year’s gold medal would be his no matter what it took.

No matter what it took.

He pulled away from Celestino. “I want to practice my jumps again.”

Yuuri skated in the direction opposite to Victor. There was a determined look on his face that Celestino was glad to see.

 

 

“The Men’s Singles Short Program event is about to start here in Moscow. This will be part of the sixth event: The Rostelecom Cup. After the series’ fifth event, the Trophée de France there are three confirmed qualifiers. One is Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan who placed second in Skate America and then won the NHK Trophy as a dark horse. The other is Phichit Chulanont, who placed first in the Cup of China and second at the Trophée de France. The third is Canada’s Jean-Jacques Leroy who’s on a roll after winning on his home turf in Skate Canada and the Trophée de France.

“The last three spots in the Final will be fought over by the following skaters: Victor Nikiforov, who won gold at Skate America and is now competing on his home turf. Yuri Plisetsky, who won silver in Skate Canada will also be competing on his home turf as part of his senor debut. Japan’s Yuuri Katsuki, who won silver in the Cup of China will compete for a second chance to try to get a spot on the podium at the Grand Prix Final. Italy’s Michele Crispino is competing as well, after claiming third place in the NHK Trophy. Seung Gil Lee, who won silver in the NHK Trophy is competing for a place at the Grand Prix Final. And the sixth skater is Emil Nekola from Czech Republic. He will be the first one today on the ice.”

 

Victor watched Yuri Plisetsky skate with a proud smile on his face. “Yuri, davai!”

The sound of footsteps made him turn around. Yuuri Katsuki walked out, followed by his coach. Victor watched Yuuri unzip his jacket and hand it to Celestino. His skating costume was black with silver embroidery that made Victor think of the night sky.

“Remember what I said, Yuuri.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” There was a confident smirk on Yuuri’s face. “The show is about to start.”

Applause broke out as Yuri Plisetsky finished his short program. The audience chanted his name. Someone threw a pair of cat ears and they landed on Yuri’s head. There was a chorus of “Aww”s from the fans.

Victor laughed.

The chanting grew louder and slowly changed from “Yuri!” to “Victor! Victor!”

“I guess they really want to see me,” Victor smiled, waving at the audience.

Yuuri stepped up to him. “You must be what all the noise is about.” He held out his hand and trailed a finger down Victor’s arm. “You may be five time world champion, but that doesn’t mean you know it all. Watch me closely. Who knows? You might learn something.”

And he exited onto the ice.

“What did you think of my short program?” Yuri asked as he passed Victor on his way from the ice to the kiss and cry.

“Not now, Yuri.”

“It’s only the Japanese Yuuri.” Plisetsky made a dismissive gesture, but he stopped to watch.

The music started. It was a Spanish tune played mostly on guitar, which was later joined by a violin. Yuuri moved his hands like a flamenco dancer ready to break out into complicated footwork. He smiled at Victor and blew him a kiss.

Victor whistled.

And then Yuuri was off.

Victor thought back to the shy boy he’d seen in practice and compared him to the confident man nailing jump after jump in front of him. A seductive step sequence followed and Victor leaned forward to watch more closely. Could there really be two Yuuris? It didn’t seem so impossible now.

Yuuri swept his arms like someone casting aside a lover he was tired of and spun into his final position. The music ended. The audience broke into applause.

Victor applauded. “What do you think, Yuri?”

Yuri Plisetsky looked thoughtful.

Victor stepped aside as Yuuri left the ice. “Will you watch me now?”

Yuuri nodded. His face was still flushed after his short program. Celestino put an arm around him. “Bravissimo, Yuuri! That was your best short program yet!”

They left for the kiss and cry.

Victor watched Yuuri smile happily at his score. He beat his personal best. Celestino congratulated him and said something that made Yuuri laugh.

With a chuckle Victor stepped onto the ice. The audience exploded with cheers and applause. Yakov smiled at his prize skater.

“The Japanese Yuuri might currently be in first place, but I know you won’t leave things the way they are, Vitya.”

Victor turned away. He caught Yuuri’s eye and made a bet with himself. Could he do it? There was only one way to find out. He winked.

The music started playing and Victor Nikiforov’s short program began.

The audience held their breath, waiting to be amazed. Everyone expected to be blown away. Fans tried to anticipate what surprise was in store for them this time.

Victor skated with his usual charm and confidence. His theme was agape, unconditional love, in contrast to the Eros that Yuuri Katsuki had just skated to. He didn’t so much skate as drift by on the ice. There was the feeling of something timeless, as if a god had descended from the skies to spend a brief moment among mortals. And then it was over. The music ended and Victor stood with his hands raised in the final position.

There was a stunned silence and then the audience applauded, but the confusion remained. Victor Nikiforov hadn’t done a single quad. What had happened?

Victor turned to look at Yuuri. The Japanese skater stood up to leave the kiss and cry. Celestino followed him out. Oh well, maybe he’d have better luck with the other Yuuri.

Victor’s next look was for Yuri Plisetsky. All he got in return was a glare.

Last on the list was Yakov and he had the air of someone who was taking a long run up before a deep plunge into the grandfather of all rants.

Oh well, can’t win them all…

 

“What was that, Celestino? I feel like he was mocking me!”

“If he was, it cost him dearly.” Celestino waved his arms emphatically. “Yuuri! You just beat Victor Nikiforov!”

Yuuri’s confusion turned to embarrassment, “I-I did…” and then he had a look of horror on his face. “Oh my god, I did!”

“Don’t look like that, Yuuri! Didn’t you _want_ to beat him?”

Yuuri stared at Celestino and the Italian man knew then that they’d have to go through the whole fiasco they’d endured at the Cup of China. Maybe even more. He knew then just how much Victor meant to Yuuri, how high that pedestal was he’d put him on. And now the pedestal was shaking. Oh dear.

“Yuuri, you better get used to beating him early so that you’ve had some practice by the Grand Prix Final!”

Yuuri opened his mouth, closed it and shivered. “But…” he whispered, remembering the wink, “he wasn’t even trying. He was… _mocking me_.”


	2. The Right Kind of Coaching

Yuuri noticed Victor skating towards him during practice. In that moment all of his years of skating seemed to fly out the window. Victor managed to catch him just in time and pulled him along.

“Good morning! Did you sleep well?” He took in Yuuri’s face with black spots under the eyes and smiled. “Maybe you should take a nap.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri tried to free himself, but only succeeded in spinning around and switching hands. Now Victor’s right hand held his right and the left hand – the left. The blood rushed to his face as he realized they’d become the centre of attention.

“Oy! Victor!” Yuri Plisetsky shouted across the ice. “This isn’t pair skating, you know!”

“Ah! You’re right.” He gave Yuuri an apologetic smile. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

Victor flung him out and Yuuri landed. He reached out his arms for balance. Someone applauded.

Victor skated past him. “Beautifully done.”

Yuuri returned to Celestino. “He _is_ mocking me!” He whispered.

Celestino watched Yakov lecture Victor. “He’s trying to talk some sense into him, but I doubt it will work. Something’s set him off.” He turned back to look at Yuuri’s lowered head and a suspicion crept into his mind. Had he given Yuuri bad advice?

Celestino took Yuuri’s head in his hands and raised it. “Listen to me, Yuuri.” He considered his next words carefully, opened his mouth, mentally ran the conversation in his head and changed tactics. “I want you to have one thought fixed in your mind: you are the most beautiful person on the ice. Focus only on that.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, but Celestino interrupted before he could get a word in.

“I want you to say ‘Yes, coach’.”

“Y-yes, coach.”

“Good boy. Don’t pay attention to anyone else. You want to beat your personal best, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. Now, go practice.”

 

Victor turned away from Yakov to watch Yuuri skate. He was tired of lectures. He’d had two hours of those the previous evening and he was sure that they were drilling a hole in his head. Hopefully the free program would calm Yakov down.

The Japanese Yuuri flubbed a jump and looked ready to return to Celestino’s side.

He really took a lot of reassuring, not like the Yuuri who’d skated the Eros routine.

And then Victor realized he was thinking of Yuuri as two different people. There was only one, he tried to tell himself, but the idea just wouldn’t budge from his mind.

What if there _were_ two? Which would he choose?

He liked the confident one. There was a sparkle in his eye that assured the world that he could do anything. His step sequence was… well, seductive. There was no other word for it. It sent excitement through the body and promised nothing but pleasure.

But this one was so innocent. There was something fragile about him. It was so tempting to offer up your own strength to try and help him.

Except he seemed to be terrified of Victor.

Why?

Maybe he’d try to get the confident one’s attention after all.

Victor’s mind suddenly did a backward jump. Attention? What? Why did he want the boy’s attention at all?

“And, of course, you’re ignoring me!” Yakov exclaimed, his voice filling up the sudden silence in Victor’s mind. “If you were my son, Vitya –”

“Oh sorry, Yakov. I just… had a strange thought. I promise I will listen to your next words carefully.”

 

Celestino watched Plisetsky’s skate on one of the screens, keeping an eye on Yuuri. It was no good. The boy fidgeted and mumbled something quietly. He held his head as if afraid it would explode. What could he do? He’d tried all of his usual tactics, but they had no effect. Or seemed to have an effect that wore off in a minute or two.

_Oh, Yuuri, what am I supposed to do with you? What type of coaching do you need?_

Celestino stepped away from the TV. He was running out of time, but he wasn’t going to let this go. Yuuri had the potential to win the Grand Prix Final whether or not he was competing against Victor Nikiforov. And how many coaches could boast that two of their pupils made it to the Grand Prix Final?

It was time to break out the big guns. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he had no choice.

 

Yuuri watched Plisetsky skate and fretted. How could he skate after a performance like that? And Victor was skating next! How could he skate _after_ Victor?

Plisetsky’s skate ended and Katsuki rushed to the rink, forgetting to check if Celestino was following him or not.

He managed to make it in time to catch sight of Victor as he was about to leave for the ice. The Russian skater was in a sparkly suit lined with red and complete with a white bowtie and a red rose in his breast pocket. He turned to smile at Yuuri.

“Tonight I will skate for you.” He pulled the flower out and handed it to Yuuri. “Can you smile at me for good luck?”

Yuuri felt the blood rush to his face, but the smile on Victor’s face was infectious.

“Thank you.” He swept out onto the ice to loud cheers from the audience.

“Ah! There you are!” Celestino said, joining Yuuri. “Here,” he handed over his phone, “someone wants to talk to you.”

Yuuri took the phone, still unable to look away from the Russian skater on the ice.

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice rang out from the phone. “Are you watching Victor right now or is that a stupid question?”

“Yes…”

“Do you think you could focus on me for a second? I know you won’t be able to peel your eyes off him while he skates, but I wanted to wish you good luck.”

“Yes…” Yuuri said absent-mindedly.

Victor swept his arms out as the music for his free program began to play. Then he landed a quad and the audience exploded.

“Aaand now I’m talking into the void,” Phichit said. “Well, I guess I will have to go to Barcelona alone, won’t I? Hey! Maybe I’ll bring a cardboard cut-out of you and pretend you’re there!”

Victor nailed another quad and then a combination jump. There was more applause.

Someone in the audience shouted, “We love you, Victor!” in Russian.

“I hear Barcelona is nice for dates,” Phichit went on, convinced that Yuuri wasn’t listening. “So if you actually made it, you’d have the time of your life with your idol/god/boyfriend/whatever.”

“What?” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Ah! So you _are_ listening! How’s the weather on the Moon?”

“W-what?”

“Yuuri can you please stop staring at Victor’s –”

“Phichit!”

“—for five seconds and listen to me? I want us to compete in the Grand Prix Final together. Don’t you see how wonderful that would be? And then you can sleep with Victor, or whatever after the Gala. Hey! I know! You can get him to autograph your –”

“Phichit!”

“Gosh! I called to wish you good luck and I’m feeling so attacked right now!” He laughed.

There was silence on the line as Yuuri continued to watch Victor skate. He felt his heart do a flip as the Russian skater landed another jump.

“Yuuri! I promised my Instagram followers I’d post pictures of you with Victor!”

But Yuuri didn’t hear those words. The free program ended and Victor stood with his arms raised, his face slightly flushed and a beautiful smile on his lips.

“I’ll get poster boy’s autograph for you, then. How many kisses do you want at the end of the message? Two?”

Yuuri let out a long breath. Anxiety was filling his stomach.

“Okay! I’m being serious now, Yuuri. Listen to me. You’re better than Victor. He doesn’t deserve to skate on the same ice as you! He should kiss the ice you skate on!”

“It’s my turn, Phichit.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri handed the phone to Celestino. He tried to ignore the shaking in his hand.

 

Victor waved at the cheering audience and then turned around to leave the ice. Someone threw him a bouquet of flowers, which he caught without stopping. His eyes searched around for Yuuri and found him standing on the ice in front of Celestino. The coach smiled fondly at his skater. He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

Victor passed them as Yuuri turned away from Celestino and the Russian skater admired his skating outfit. Yuuri skated to the middle of the ice as Victor headed for the kiss and cry.

They announced his score and Yakov said something, but Victor wasn’t listening.

It was the innocent one’s turn to skate.

Yuuri’s free skate started well and for a while it looked as if he’d managed to get his nerves under control until a triple axel turned into a single. It just went downhill from there. The step sequence was beautiful, but he couldn’t land the next three jumps.

Was he really not going to make it when he was so close? Victor wished he could do something. He felt helpless, stuck in the role of a spectator. He clutched his hands and prayed silently.

And then he remembered, _truly remembered_ Yuuri Katsuki. It was the previous year’s Grand Prix Final and the skater had missed many of his jumps, just as he was doing now…

“Oy! Hang in there!” The shout had come from Yuri Plisetsky of all people and he looked as surprised to realize it was him as everyone else was.

Katsuki turned around to see who it was. And smiled.

Victor watched Yuuri jump and a thought occurred to him. _He’s not tired! He’s flubbing his jumps because he’s nervous, but he still has the stamina to keep going!_

Yuuri seemed more determined now. It was almost the end. There was barely any time left.

And then it was over. Yuuri stood with one hand over his heart and the other pointing at the audience, as if entrusting them with it.

Applause broke out. Victor got up and joined Yuri. The two Russian skaters looked at each other.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Yuri asked.

“I expect so.” Victor smiled. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Plisetsky punched him on the arm. “Shut up, you moron!” He stormed over to where Yuuri was leaving the ice. “What was with that free skate? You better try harder when you compete against me in the Final!”

Katsuki stared at Plisetsky and then enveloped him in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Ahh!” Plisetsky struggled free.

“Can I have a hug too?” Victor asked.

Everyone watched Yuuri’s face turn red.

“And the score for Yuuri Katsuki is,” the announcer exclaimed, “180.31 points! That puts him in third place, qualifying him for the Grand Prix Final!”

“Yuuri!” Celestino exclaimed, slapping his pupil on the back. “You made it! Now I have two pupils in the Final!”

Plisetsky scoffed and turned away, but Katsuki caught sight of a small smile on the Russian skater’s face. “See you in Barcelona, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled. “Yeah… Barcelona…”

Victor watched the Japanese skater leave with his coach, rooted to the spot. He’d won the gold at the Rostelecom cup and qualified for the Grand Prix Final, but why did it feel like a loss?

“Time to go, Vitya,” Yakov said, putting an arm on his shoulder.

For a moment Victor felt as if he was in the wrong spot, doing the wrong thing. But wasn’t his spot here in this competition?

On the ice they were preparing for the awards ceremony.

And then the feeling of wrongness was gone.

It was time to get another gold medal.


	3. The Eloping Yuris

The morning of the exhibition dance for the Rostelecom Cup it took Victor an entire hour to notice that something wasn’t right. “Where is Yuri?”

Yakov frowned. “He left with the Japanese Yuuri an hour ago.”

“What? And they didn’t invite me?”

In a tone of voice that could have been interpreted as sarcastic the coach said, “Surprisingly not.”

“Where did they go?”

“No idea.”

How had they vanished after the morning’s practice without Victor noticing anything? He sighed and pushed the plate of food away. He was in no mood for lunch. For some reason the Japanese Yuuri preferred the company of the Russian Yuri over his own. And he was at a complete loss as to what to do.

He hadn’t had much of a life outside of figure skating. He’d never been in a relationship with anyone, but he’d gotten used to victories, even if they were just those on the ice. At press conferences he’d always be at the centre of attention. Everyone always wanted his attention, time, autograph or – when worst came to worst – opinion about something.

Except now.

He pulled out his phone, but it became obvious rather quickly that wherever they’d gone, they weren’t going to post on the Internet about it.

“If you don’t know where they are, I’ll just find them myself,” he told Yakov and secretly congratulated himself on how cool that sounded.

The coach caught him by the arm. “Not without paying your bill, you won’t!”

 

Yuri Plisetsky laughed and, after staring at him in surprise for several seconds, Yuuri Katsuki joined in. Some part of him felt guilty about it, but only a small part. Plisetsky elbowed him and doubled over, laughing harder. Katsuki couldn’t stop either.

They’d had lunch in a small café and then Katsuki wanted to see the Red Square. This turned out to be a bad idea the moment they saw that half of it was blocked off for an open air concert. After several minutes of sour contemplation of the walls of the Kremlin Plisetsky dragged Katsuki off to Arbatskaya Street.

They spent some time wandering around as Katsuki debated what souvenir he wanted to take home. He could see that the Russian skater’s patience was starting to wear thin and wished desperately he could be more decisive.

That was when they found a small store that sold memorabilia with one very recognizable skater painted all over it.

“I know exactly what you should buy!” Plisetsky exclaimed and handed Katsuki a matrieshka with Victor Nikiforov’s face.

Katsuki felt the blood rush to his face. “I-I can’t buy this!”

“Of course you can! Magnets are stupid, that apron is disgusting and the T-shirts will probably fade after you throw them in the wash.”

The Japanese skater picked the Matrieshka up and stared at it as if seriously considering buying it while a voice in the back of his mind told him that he had no choice now.

“I think I’m going to buy this!” Plisetsky exclaimed.

Yuuri raised his eyes to be greeted by the sight of a paper mask of Victor’s face plastered over Yuri’s. Yuri raised his arms and turned around on the spot. “What did you say, Yakov? I can’t hear you over how much of a skating god I am!”

And that was when they both burst out laughing.

Yuuri stared at the stack of masks. “Seems really unfair they don’t have one of you.”

“What a stupid idea! That would be too creepy!” Yuri pulled the mask off his face. “How much do you want to bet that I can wear this in front of him and he won’t notice?”

“Of course he’ll notice!”

“No he won’t! Mila’s hair used to be really long and –” He grabbed Katsuki’s arm and pulled him behind a giant stuffed bear.

“What is it?”

“I just thought I saw someone I recognized.” Plisetsky peered out carefully. “Damn! He saw me!”

“Yuri! What are you doing here?”

Katsuki and Plisetsky both stared at a familiar face.

“Georgi, what are _you_ doing here?” Plisetsky demanded.

“I was supposed to meet someone near here, but they stood me up. And then I saw you two walk into this store.” Georgi Popovitch was a member of the Russian skating team and another of Yakov’s pupils. He looked at the mask in Yuri’s hand. “That brings back memories!”

“It does?”

“We used to pull all kinds of pranks on our teachers with paper masks.”

Katsuki listened in amazement to stories from Georgi’s childhood. He’d competed against Georgi in the Cup of China, but didn’t get a chance to talk to the skater at all then. Now he was hearing more about him than he’d heard from most people he’d known for a long time.

Plisetsky treated the stories like a challenge and told his own of how much crueller he and his schoolmates were. After a while both Russians looked at Yuuri expectantly.

“Uh… we didn’t… do anything like that…”

“Don’t tell me you were the teacher’s pet,” Plisetsky mocked him.

“No, I just… no one did that kind of thing at my school.”

There was a short silence after those words broken only by the chattering of the people outside.

Georgi’s phone made a noise and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Mila’s wondering where we are. She says she wants to join us.”

“Like I want to see that old hag!” Plisetsky exclaimed. “Come on, Yuuri, let’s go somewhere fun.”

Georgi sighed and texted: _I’m on Arbat. They were here, but they ran off._

_Any idea where?_

_How should I know? Why don’t you ask Yuri?_

_Because he doesn’t like me._

_Why do you want to meet up with him, then?_

_They’re gone? Definitely gone?_

_Yes._

_You can’t run and find them?_

_I don’t think so._

_Victor wants to go on a date with the Japanese Yuri._

Georgi smiled. _Tell him good luck from me._

 

Mila was at a loss. She prided herself on her resourcefulness, but here was a bizarre situation she’d never – well, maybe not _never_ – but… She hadn’t considered before, well, except once, but in _completely different_ circumstances. The rare times when she’d entertained the thought of Victor in love (if he actually was in love at the moment and she was about… oh, say 80% sure he was) she imagined it would be entirely different. It was all because he was so popular, she decided. People pursued _him_ , not the other way around.

But what do you do when you’re extremely popular and you like the one person who doesn’t like you back?

Why had Victor come to her anyway?

He’d asked her if she knew where Yuri Plisetsky was or could help find him. After some badgering, he eventually admitted that he was more interested in Yuuri Katsuki, who’d “run off” with him. For some reason, she’d thought of Georgi at that moment.

The desperate suggestion that Georgi might know the whereabouts of the two Yuris (she tried not to think of them as the eloping Yuris that was too funny for words) had been surprisingly successful. Until the two Yuris ran off again!

Mila had never seen Victor show any interest in other skaters before (at least not that kind of interest, he’d accumulated an incredible number of adopted sons, but that was beside the point). She knew about his friendship with Christophe Giacometti, but somehow that friendship always bordered on rivalry.

And then she saw him flirt with the Japanese Yuuri. And thought she’d seen Yuuri flirt back. But now she wasn’t so sure…

Victor was fretting now, actually fretting. For a moment she thought he was going to cry, but then dismissed the thought as a mad one.

“What do I do?” Victor whined. “He hates me! I knew it!”

“No one hates you, Victor.”

“He avoids me and won’t talk to me. I can’t deal with this.” He dropped down onto the ground and rolled into a ball.

_What a drama queen!_

Mila could barely suppress her laughter. “Where would our Yuri take him?” She paced around Victor. “Do you know where he lives? I know! I’ll get his grandfather’s number from Yakov and he’ll find out where Yuri is!”

Victor leapt into the air and grabbed Mila’s hands. “You’re a life saviour!”

“Er… right…” And then Mila smiled. “If we find him you’ll owe me a favour.”

“I’ll do anything!”

 

Katsuki was so fascinated by the stations of the Moscow metro that Plisetsky took him to as many of the nicest ones as he could before it was time to return to the Gala.

Yuri’s phone rang and Katsuki saw the expression on the Russian boy’s face soften. “Hello, Grandpa! …I’m fine! …I’m with a friend! …We’re going back now.”

Katsuki turned away and tried not to listen to the conversation. Yuri Plisetsky had called him a friend!

“Oy!” Plisetsky elbowed him. “Don’t fall asleep! We’re getting off here!”

“Is your grandfather coming to watch you skate?”

“He is!”

They chatted happily about their families as they walked and Yuuri found himself talking about his parents and his sister. He sighed and was suddenly aware how much he missed them.

Plisetsky elbowed him again. “Don’t go all soppy on me! We’re almost there!”

The first person they saw when they entered the hotel lobby was figure skating legend Victor Nikiforov giving an interview to the press.

Katsuki and Plisetsky burst out laughing very nearly at the same time.

The skater turned around. The people from the press stared.

“That’s a really funny story!” Plisetsky said, getting his laughter under control. “Let’s go tell Mila. She’ll love it!”

He’d spotted Mila at the end of the corridor and dragged Yuuri after him towards her.

“Hello Yuris! What’s so funny?”

Plisetsky leaned forward and whispered, “Quick! We need to go upstairs! I’ll explain later.”

Yuuri pushed the elevator button and one minute later all three of them were gone.

“What was that about?” Mila asked. “Come on! Tell me now!”

Plisetsky grinned and pulled the paper mask out of his bag.

“You didn’t –” Mila burst out laughing.

Katsuki blushed. “Please! You mustn’t tell him.”

Mila took the mask and put it over her face. “Oh no! My reputation is ruined! I’ll be the laughing stock of the figure skating world!”

The elevator dinged and Mila quickly removed the mask.

“We shouldn’t do this! He’ll find out!”

“Hmph! Then he’ll have to learn to deal with it,” Mila retorted.

Katsuki grabbed his face. “I don’t believe I’m doing this! Making fun of Victor Nikiforov himself!”

“He’s not some kind of god! He’s a human being like you and me. Actually, he’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met, trust me.”

And then the elevator behind them went ‘ding’ again and the man himself stepped out.

“Ah! Speak of the devil!” Mila exclaimed and put her hands over her mouth.

Victor smiled. “Yuuri Katsuki, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah? Then you’ll just have to wait.” Mila put an arm around each of the Yuris. “I have important things to talk about with these two… Hey! I’m standing between two Yuris! I can make a wish!”

Victor stared after them as they disappeared down the hall.

 

The next time Victor saw Yuuri Katsuki was when Celestino was giving him a little talk before his gala performance. He caught only the last few words of the conversation before the coach left to take his place in the audience.

For a moment it was only him and Yuuri. He suddenly didn’t know what to say.

“Hello, Victor.” Yuuri fidgeted. “You… um… asked me for a hug earlier…” And he embraced the Russian skater.

Victor’s breath caught in his throat. He raised his arms and returned the hug.

“I want to get to know you better,” Victor whispered into the boy’s ear. “Will you meet me after the gala dance?”

Yuuri pulled away and Victor saw how red his face was. He waited for an answer, but when Yuuri continued to stare at the ground he said:

“You don’t have to say ‘yes’. There is someone else, I understand.”

“No! I-I mean…” Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hands. “I want to go with you.”

Victor smiled. “Then it’s a –”

“Aah! It’s almost my turn!” Yuuri rushed off.

“- date.” Victor sighed. He watched Plisetsky complete his routine on one of the screens and pursed his lips. It was time to get some answers.

He headed for the rink and found a discrete place to stand and watch from as Plisetsky came off the ice. He grabbed the boy’s arm.

“What did you tell Yuuri about me?”

The lights turned off as Yuuri got into position to start.

“What does it matter?” Plisetsky hissed. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”

“Did he say something about me?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Where did you two go?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I wanted to take him sightseeing.”

“Then you didn’t want to hard enough, or you’d have beaten me to it.” Yuri freed his arm. “Look, if you want to say something to Yuuri, then just go to him and say it. Don’t whine to me about it.” He stormed off.

Victor turned to watch Yuuri skate.

 

And then the situation was reversed as Yuuri watched Victor skate. Or, at least, Victor hoped that the boy was watching. He found himself putting his whole soul into the routine and was suddenly struck by just how appropriate the song was.

_Don’t rush when we’re all alone,_

_Don’t rush when it’s not allowed,_

_Don’t rush when I’m sad at night_

That was the gist of the song, anyway. He wondered if there was a better translation and did a quadruple flip.

Would Yuuri wait for him after the Gala?

_You must rush, you must rush when someone caused you pain_

_You must rush when I need a friend_

He was aware that he’d mentally tweaked the words to get a sort of poem and did a combination jump.

What would he do if Yuuri rejected him? Would he become like Georgi, all broken inside? He jumped again and the song was almost over.

He thought of Yuuri’s final position for his free program and had the sudden desire to see the hands arced towards him in the end.

He spun around and the music ended.

There was applause, but he barely made one bow before running off. It was very rude and he could already imagine Yakov ranting at him about it.

He put his skate guards on and searched around. Plisetsky was arguing with Mila about something. Emil Nekola and Michele Crispino were trying to tell Sara a joke, but she was too busy texting someone to really listen and they had to keep repeating the punchline.

He was gone! Yuuri had gone!

Victor slipped into the change room to find Yuuri talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes… No… No! …Of course not!” He didn’t notice Victor come in and kept talking. “…Don’t say that!”

And then Victor heard the person on the other side of the conversation say, “Aw, Yuri, you know I love you!”

If Victor had heard those words earlier, he would’ve resigned himself to the fact that he had a rival and would’ve bowed out gracefully (or so he hoped). But they came too late: he’d put his arms around Yuuri.

Yuuri screamed.

“Yuuri, what happened?” the person on the phone asked. “Are you alright?”

Victor backed away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll leave you alone. I—”

Yuuri’s phone fell on the floor. He reached out and grabbed Victor’s hands. “No, don’t go.”

Victor smiled bitterly. “You really don’t –” The words on his lips froze under the intensity of Yuuri’s stare. “Ah… what is it?”

“I’ve got you now and I won’t let you go.”

The blood rushed to Victor’s face.

“Hey! Are you two fighting?” Plisetsky burst in.

Victor stared down at his hands, but Yuuri had released him.

Yuuri picked up his phone from the floor. “No.”

“Then why did you scream?” Plisetsky eyed Victor suspiciously.

“I heard you scream too!” Mila cut in, peeking into the change room.

“Is someone hurt?” Emil ran in, followed by Michele and Sara.

“Everyone is fine,” Yuuri said. He lifted the phone to his face. “Sorry, Phichit, I dropped my phone. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. Then he walked up to Victor. “Well, are you going to change out of your skates or not?”

“I…” Victor sat down. “Yes.”

“Is Victor bothering you again?” Plisetsky asked. “He’s always so annoying!”

Yuuri smiled. “It’s fine, really.”

Mila joined them and together they watched Emil leave with the Crispino siblings.

“Who were you talking to just now?” Plisetsky asked.

“My friend Phichit. He’s going to compete with us in the Grand Prix Final.” Yuuri smiled. “He trains under coach Celestino with me.”

“Wasn’t he in the Cup of China?” Mila asked.

“Yes.”

Victor got up and took Yuuri’s hand. “Time for us to go, Yuuri.”

“Us?” Mila asked.

“Huh?” Yuri Plisetsky exclaimed.

Yuuri smiled at them both. “I think Victor means it’s time to return to the hotel.”

Victor led Yuuri out while Mila and Yuri hung behind.

“They’re suddenly really close…” Mila whispered.

“Victor is an idiot,” Plisetsky grumbled.

“That’s true. How can we make fun of him with him actually being around? Oh! I know!” she elbowed Yuri.

“Shut up, you old hag! No one invited you to our group anyway!”

“You did and so did Victor.”

“I didn’t!”

Mila smiled as she spotted Yuuri and Victor holding hands. “Well, I’m glad that worked out alright. The big baby came crying to me when you two ran off, you know!”

“We didn’t run off. We snuck off. That’s different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Victor skates to is an actual song that I translated as best as I could.  
> Also, I assumed that the Gala dances happen on the day after the free program and in the evening to give me some time between skates.


	4. The Morning After

“Yuuri! It’s all over the Internet!” were the first words out of Phichit’s mouth when Yuuri called him back the next day.

“What is?”

“That you’re going out with Victor, of course! Congratulations!”

“We’re n-not going out…”

“Pfft! Like I’ll believe that! I heard you confess your love to him.”

“I didn’t –” Yuuri blushed, remembering what he’d said.

“So… how did your date go?”

“It wasn’t… we didn’t…” Yuuri flailed. “N-nothing happened! We just held hands!”

“Yuuri! What kind of first date is that?”

“The n-normal kind?”

“If you’re 13, sure.” Phichit laughed. “Did you at least get his number?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ooh! I smell a juicy story. Tell me all about it! I want to know every single detail.”

There was a knock on the door followed by Celestino’s voice shouting, “Yuuri! You still sleeping in there? Hurry up! We’ll miss our flight!”

Completely forgetting he still had his phone next to his ear and that Phichit was still on the line, Yuuri mumbled, “Sleeping? How could I sleep after something like that?”

“Yuuri, you will tell me what happened or…” Phichit paused, “…or I’ll be very angry with you.”

“I’ll tell you later, I promise!”

“Call me from the airport.”

“Alright, alright, I will.”

Yuuri ended the call and sighed. He picked it up the piece of paper on his bedside table and slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat, next to his heart. Then he took one last look at the hotel room, making sure he didn’t forget anything.

 

_Victor and Yuuri stood under a streetlamp not far from their hotel. Victor smiled down at Yuuri and he couldn’t help noticing the way the light hit the Russian man’s face, or the way the lights reflected in his eyes. Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from that face._

_“Call me when your plane lands.” Victor put his arms around Yuuri._

_“I- ah… I don’t have your number.”_

_“Of course! How silly of me to forget!” Victor pulled a small notebook out of a pocket of his coat and wrote down his number. Yuuri thought this a bit old-fashioned, but very endearing. He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into the top pocket of Yuuri’s coat._

_“Call me,” he whispered right into Yuuri’s ear, “even if it’s late at night.”_

_Yuuri nodded. His cheeks were burning._

_Victor took his hand. “Let’s go inside.”_

_Later after Victor left and Yuuri pulled the piece of paper out of his coat to enter the number into his phone he noticed a small note in curly neat handwriting right under Victor’s phone number._

I will miss you.


	5. Remember Eros

Phichit was the first of the Grand Prix Final skaters down at breakfast that morning and, after filling his plate up from the buffet table, he picked a spot that would give him a good view of the people coming in. Sadly, this meant that he couldn’t look out the window. He’d only arrived in Barcelona the night before and had yet to see any of the sights.

A table by the window held what the media called “the most successful coaches of the season”: Yakov and Celestino who both had two pupils in the Grand Prix Final. Phichit snuck a photo of them talking animatedly to each other.

_Comparing notes or betting on the final outcome?_ He wondered and decided to post the photo later.

Yuri Plisetsky slouched into the breakfast room, grabbed a plate and headed straight for the food. Phichit snuck a photo of him too.

Otabek Altin was the next one down. He stopped next to Yuri, but remained quiet. Phichit waited for them to make conversation, but Yuri acted as if he was only interested in the scrambled eggs.

After at least twenty strangers the much-awaited couple came in. Victor’s hand was around Yuuri’s back. They headed for the food table and Victor loaded up Yuuri’s plate for him. Phichit snapped a photo of them and managed to catch Yuri’s glaring face in the background.

He watched them, wondering if they will pick a table to themselves or come join him. The Russian Yuri took the choice out of their hands by walking over to the Japanese Yuuri and telling him rather loudly that he was having breakfast with him and that no one else was invited.

Katsuki stared at him and then at Victor and then he noticed Phichit. He smiled at Yuri and headed straight for Phichit’s table. The two Russian skaters followed, Victor laughing and Yuri grumbling.

“Good morning, Yuuri! Sleep well? Will you introduce me to your new friends?”

Yuuri sat down and Victor took the seat next to him. Plisetsky claimed the spot next to Victor. This left one chair empty.

“Victor, Yuri, this is Phichit, who I told you about before.”

“Nice to meet you.” Phichit leaned forward and whispered. “I think Yakov and Celestino have some sort of bet going.”

“What?” Yuuri turned around to look at the coaches.

“And now all of their pupils are in one spot… And,” Phichit grinned, “as are most of the finalists! Congratulations again, Yuuri!”

“Ah! Thank you! Do you think we should’ve invited the other two finalists to sit with us?”

Plisetsky made a face. “If you invite JJ, I’m leaving.”

“So… what’s our plan? What do you want to see first?” Phichit asked.

“What about practice?”

“I mean _after_ practice, obviously.”

Yuuri looked at Victor uncertainly. “Well, I… I thought we’d see the main sights…” He trailed off and pretended to be interested in the food on his plate.

Phichit took in Yuuri’s face and the way Victor looked at him and smiled. “What about you, Russian Yuri?”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged.

Phichit thought he had the beginnings of a plan then.

The Russian Yuri got up to get more food. Phichit joined him even though he wasn’t hungry.

 

Victor ate quickly and then slid his plate away. Yuuri was pushing the food around on his plate.

“I’ll take you sightseeing, if you want,” Victor said.

The relief he’d felt when he finally met Phichit and realized that he was nothing more than a friend, maybe a best friend, was giving him courage. He put his right hand over Yuuri’s left. “I’ll take you right after practice, if you like.”

Yuuri smiled at him and all was right with the world. In that moment Victor felt that it was impossible to be happier than he was. Suddenly everything seemed so meaningless: the medals, the competitions and it seemed to Victor that the only purpose of the championship was to bring them together. They’d been so foolish the previous year, but now they got a second chance.

And then he had another thought. No, the competition was important. He raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “I’ll win gold for you, I promise.”

But that turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

“ _I’m_ going to win gold,” Yuuri said in a determined tone of voice. The words hung in the air for a moment and Yuuri appended them with, “For you, that is.”

_Did I get the seductive Yuuri this morning?_ Victor wondered. _How do they manage to stay out of each other’s way? Which one did I give my number to?_ And then a strange thought occurred to him. _What does each of them think of me seeing both of them? …Oh, right, they don’t know that I know their secret. What if they find out, what will they think of me?_

Yuuri freed his hand gently and returned to his food.

Victor heard Phichit explaining something to Plisetsky and got up. “I’m going to get more food. Do you want anything?” Yuuri shook his head. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

Practice was uneventful. Victor could feel Yakov’s eyes on him the whole time and wondered if he was what could be called “on his best behaviour”. He made sure to keep Yuuri always in sight this time.

The Japanese skater did a quadruple Salchow and landed perfectly. His face was flushed with pleasure and he did another jump.

_Which one is it this time? It must be the seductive one._

Yakov grilled the Russian Yuri and then called Victor over for a lecture. Victor heard the kinds of pep talks Celestino gave Yuuri and the way that coach talked to Phichit. He mentally compared the way the coaches talked to different pupils. Out of everyone it seemed that Phichit was the model pupil.

As if sensing Victor was thinking about him, Phichit skated by and smiled. Then he turned around to tease Plisetsky and got an angry shout in return.

Practice was almost over.

And then Victor saw his chance.

Did it matter which Yuuri this was if he managed to get him to himself? He felt guilty of that thought, but managed to suppress the feeling.

Yuuri left the ice and found himself face to face with Victor. Victor offered him his arm for balance and handed him his skate guards.

“I was thinking we could start with the Sagrada Familia… if you’re not too tired, of course.”

“Alright.”

“Come on, then.”

 

As Yuuri left the morning’s practice with Victor he heard his text message alert sound and pulled out his phone.

_Remember Eros_ Phichit wrote.

Yuuri looked over his shoulder. Victor put an arm around him, as if afraid he’d change his mind and choose someone else to spend his time with. Phichit was circling around Plisetsky with a grin on his face. He caught Yuuri’s eye and gave a slight nod.

Yuuri nodded in return. He took Victor’s hand.

“I want to try some local food.”

“Of course! Leave it to me.”

As they left the ice rink they were surrounded by a crowd of fans outside. Yuuri’s grip tightened on Victor’s hand. And then he noticed that they were all wearing cat ears.

“I see Yuri’s Angels are here,” Victor chuckled. “Yuri sure has a lot of dedicated fans.”

“I see…” Yuuri thought of Phichit’s advice. “I never wanted to have a crowd of fans, even if they were angels.” He pretended to consider those words. “Well, maybe _one_ angel.” He smiled at Victor.

The Russian skater blushed and Yuuri thought how much it suited him.

 

_I definitely got the seductive one!_ Victor realized, his heart skipping a beat. Yuuri was clutching his arm possessively and Victor really wanted to tease him about it, but his voice failed him. How embarrassing! And to think he used to be the person who could drive crowds mad with a single wink!

Yuuri Katsuki from Japan barged into his world and turned it inside out with one sentence. _You might learn something_.

“What are you thinking about?” Yuuri asked.

_You._ “Oh just… remembering.” It sounded so lame. He wished he could say something clever that would earn him another admiring glance from Yuuri.

Yuuri stopped and smiled. Victor’s heart did a quadruple flip in his chest. “Maybe we should ask for directions.”

“I… I know how to get there.”

“Lead the way.”

They’d stopped by at the hotel to change clothes and Victor had spent fifteen minutes agonizing in front of the mirror before remembering that he was keeping Yuuri waiting and giving up.

They took pictures in front of the Sagrada Familia and then went to eat paella (a local dish, as promised). The beautiful city that had once charmed Victor had faded into the background, unable to compete with Yuuri Katsuki’s glowing eyes.

Someone in the street was playing music and – on a whim – Yuuri pulled him into a dance. The music brought his Eros routine to mind and that must have been why Victor saw him moving his hands in a familiar way. He was suddenly aware of the fact that the Eros routine was being performed right in front of him. It felt like standing next to the Sun and he thought of all of the fairy tales in which animals or people got too close and burned.

_Yuuri, you have my heart in your hands and you’re burning it, but I would consider it an honour to be burned by you._

The music ended and Yuuri stopped. He put his forehead against Victor’s and the Russian felt the boy’s hot breath on his face. Yuuri was holding both of his hands.

Their surroundings slowly became more prominent. They were standing in the middle of the street. The background noise of people talking, traffic moving about and any other sounds a city generally makes as the evening closes in filled his ears.

Yuuri stepped back. “Let’s keep going.”

 

Yuuri felt giddy, as if he’d had a couple of drinks, which he hadn’t of course. The Final was tomorrow and he would never drink the night before a competition. But this feeling was all too much like that.

He’d danced in the street! With Victor Nikiforov himself! What was happening to him?

In that moment it didn’t matter that Victor was living figure skating legend or that he had been Yuuri’s idol for as long as the boy could remember. All that mattered was that Victor was Victor. He was nice, he was charming and he set Yuuri’s heart on fire.

They stood in front of the singing fountains of Barcelona: an impressive display of water streams that changed with the music that played from speakers all around them. They were currently playing a piece of classical music that Yuuri couldn’t recognize.

Their arms were wrapped around each other.

“I’ve never had a day like today,” Yuuri admitted.

“Me neither.”

And they understood each other perfectly.

Yuuri closed his eyes and gave a contented sigh.


	6. A Fateful Meeting

Phichit snapped another photo, but suddenly his heart wasn’t in it. He’d followed Yuuri and Victor on their date through Barcelona, but as the afternoon turned to evening he started to wonder if maybe he should leave his friend to enjoy Victor’s company. It looked like Yuuri had taken his advice and if he decided that he wanted any details he was sure he could tease them out of Yuuri later.

He turned around to go and nearly bumped into someone.

“Ah! Sorry!”

He stepped back and took a good look at the person in front of him. It was Mila Babicheva, a skater from the Russian team and one of the finalists in this year’s Grand Prix for women’s figure skating.

She grinned. “Barcelona is just full of skaters this time of year, isn’t it?”

“Everyone wants to see the singing fountains,” he told her.

“And not keep tabs on how a _certain date_ is going?” Mila put her hands on her hips.

“Look,” Phichit said, “Yuuri is my best friend and I was worried about him. Now I see I’m just wasting my time.” Phichit pretended that he was about to leave and then gave Mila a mischievous grin. “But why are _you_ here?”

“Same reason as you. Victor is my friend and, after he came crying to me in Moscow, I thought I’d keep an eye on him.” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

“You’re lying!”

“Ah… well…” She laughed. “You caught me out! I admit I was just curious. Your friend is a tough one to understand.”

“Yuuri? He’s the most straightforward person I know!”

“Really? Then why does he switch between two different personalities?”

Phichit laughed. “I see what you mean. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“If that’s an act, then good for him: he’s got Victor hook, line and sinker. The man can’t make head or tail of him, either.” She smiled wistfully. “Probably best that way: always a good idea to be a little bit of a mystery.”

“Why?”

“Everyone knows the chase is more fun than the catch itself.”

“I heard people say that,” Phichit nodded, “but it doesn’t apply to those two. At least, I hope not.” He told her about Yuuri’s life long obsession with Victor, about the nights spent watching his skating routines over and over and the days passed in repeating the routines from memory.

“But everyone who is a big fan does that kind of thing,” Mila said.

Phichit considered this. “Do you believe in true love?”

“Of course!”

“And I’ve heard people insist that there’s no such thing, but I want to live in a world where true love exists and when I see them together I feel like they’re the perfect example of true love.”

They watched Yuuri and Victor in silence for a while. The couple smiled at each other and didn’t say anything. Yuuri looked around, took in the crowd of people and dragged Victor somewhere else.

“Let’s follow them, come on.”

“Why?”

“Listen, Phichit, I need to speak to Victor privately for a couple of minutes.”

“Why?” Phichit gave her a suspicious look. “Are you trying –”

Mila broke out into laughter. “Goodness, no!” She sighed. “If you must know, he owes me a favour and I’d like to get it now.”

“What sort of favour are we talking here?”

“Maybe you can help me. Do you know Otabek?”

“Only by name.” Phichit pulled out his phone. “I thought I saw… ah!”

Mila leaned over his shoulder and they both stared at a photo of Otabek on a motorbike with a familiar figure sitting behind him.

“He’s with your Yuri.”

“He’s certainly not _my_ Yuri, which is why I’m asking Victor. I helped him find his Yuuri and now he can help me convince our Yuri to let me talk to Otabek.” She replayed the last sentence in her head. “It’s getting really confusing with two Yuris, isn’t it? Makes me wish we had nicknames to distinguish them from each other.”

They considered several nicknames in the privacy of their heads and broke out into giggles.

Mila elbowed Phichit. “What did you think of?”

“I can’t say it!”

“Ha! I bet mine were ruder!”

“Why should we bother anyone? They’re all having fun. We can hang out on our own. You can talk to Otabek after the Grand Prix.”

“You think so?”

“I promise you I’ll get you his number,” Phichit said. “Come on, I saw an interesting shop over there.”

They walked off together, sharing funny stories. Mila told Phichit all about Victor’s moping for the last couple of days. Phichit told Mila about his time in Detroit with Yuuri. And then he confided in her that he was seriously considering moving back to Thailand after the Grand Prix. Mila nodded sympathetically. Too much time away from home was rarely a good thing.

They compared the photos they’d snuck of Yuuri and Victor and that would’ve been the limit of their involvement with the two that evening except that Fate had other plans.

Phichit stood outside a café while Mila nipped inside for a coffee when the crowd around Phichit parted and Yuuri appeared by his side.

“Phichit? Why are you here?” He blushed. “Are you following us?”

“Not anymore I’m not.” Phichit looked around. “What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything! He’s over there.” Yuuri waved in the direction of a bench where Victor sat. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you following us!”

“We picked this direction at random, honest!” But Phichit remembered that Mila had steered their walk for the past hour and a suspicion popped into his mind.

“We?” Yuuri took in the crowd around them. “Is Yuri here?”

“No. Mila is.”

“Where did she go?”

Phichit saw the answer to that question and sighed. “You’re not going to like this.” _I just hope that Otabek story is true, although I’m more willing to believe in flying pigs right now._

Yuuri spun around and saw Mila sit down next to Victor. He leaned close to her and she patted him on the shoulder. Phichit watched Yuuri’s face closely, but it was hard to read.

Finally he whispered, “He’s upset.”

Phichit managed to stop himself from asking why just in time. “What will you do?”

“How should I know?” And the good old-fashioned Yuuri panic attack was back.

Phichit searched their surroundings for inspiration. “I have an idea.” He grabbed Yuuri by the arm and dragged him away.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Yuuri said and the words echoed in Victor’s head as he sat on the bench, waiting. Several eternities passed. He lowered his head onto his hands. He’d made a passing comment about going back to his room when there was a shocked look on Yuuri’s face and the boy ran off.

Ran off. He’d been abandoned!

Victor lowered his head further. Why was he so stupid? How could he say something without realizing what it would sound like to someone else? He’d frightened off the best person in the world! The evening had been so magical! He’d never felt so many emotions all at once before. He sighed heavily.

There went all of his chances with the seductive Yuuri. He thought about the innocent Yuuri and hated himself for it. He’d set his heart on this one, how could he change his mind now?

“Is this bench reserved for prima donnas only?” a familiar voice asked in Russian and he looked up to see Mila grinning at him, but her grin faded as soon as she noticed the expression on his face. “What happened?”

“I think I… well, Yuuri… I scared him off…”

“What did you do? Quote Pushkin?”

Victor lowered his head again. “I made a fool of myself.”

“But you do that on a regular basis, how is this any different?”

“Is that why there’s never been anyone in my life?”

Mila opened her mouth, but managed to suppress the first reply that came to mind. She settled for patting him gently. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“I know what you were going to say,” Victor mumbled.

“You do?”

“Yes, you were going to say that I’m a selfish person and that I can’t think of anyone else if I tried.” He sighed. “You’re right.”

“Believe me, Victor that is definitely _not_ what I was going to say.”

He sighed again. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I’m competing in the Grand Prix too, you know.”

“I meant right here, right now.”

“Getting coffee.” She held out the cup in her hand. “Do you want some? Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

“Nothing will cheer me up. Tell Yakov I’m done. He won’t see me skate tomorrow.”

“You don’t actually mean that, do you?”

He looked her in the eye. “Of course I’m serious. Why would I joke about this?”

“I’m sure you’re just overreacting. He probably needed to go to the bathroom and was too embarrassed to admit it.” She finished her coffee and tossed the cup in a nearby garbage can.

“I’ve waited here forever. He’s not coming back.” He reclined on the bench and stared up at the stars. “And now I have a terrible choice that feels all wrong.”

He felt Mila watch him and wondered how she’d react to the secret he’d uncovered. Right now he really needed to tell someone. She fidgeted with her purse.

“I stumbled into a secret by accident. Not everyone knows this, but there are actually two Yuuris.”

“Uh… everyone knows that, Victor.”

He stared at her, unable to understand.

She sighed. “Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki. Everyone knows about them. They’re competing in the Grand Prix Final, in case you forgot!” She was talking to him as if he was slow on the uptake.

Victor shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what in the world are you talking about?”

He leaned forward and whispered: “You mustn’t tell anyone.” He waited for her to nod. “There are two Yuuri Katsukis, or maybe one of them has a different name, I don’t know, but they both compete under one name.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, Mila, it’s simple: there are two different people pretending to be one person. Every short program the seductive Yuuri skates and every free skate is performed by the innocent one.”

She gave him a strange look. “I guess that does… explain some things.”

“See? It’s simple… Except that it’s not, because I fell in love with the seductive one, but he doesn’t like me.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she said carefully and turned away to cough.

“Are you alright? It’s getting cold. Maybe you should return to the hotel. You don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Yes…” she said and coughed. “Maybe I should.” She stood up and looked over Victor’s head at something. “In fact, I’m going to leave right now. Have a good evening!” She waved and vanished into the crowd.

Victor sighed and lowered his head. Some people managed to find happiness while he seemed to be cursed to spend a life of misery. He wondered if it was a punishment for his sins and tried to remember what he could have done to deserve such torture.

“Victor! Sorry to keep you waiting –”

Victor leapt up and threw his arms around Yuuri. The boy returned the embrace and whispered into Victor’s ear: “I got you a present.” He pulled away and held out a bag.

“What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Yuuri said. “I thought I’d… give you something to remember me by.”

“You’re making it sound like you’re leaving, Yuuri.”

“The Grand Prix is almost over.”

“You’re right,” Victor agreed quietly. He stared glumly at the bag. “Can I open it now?”

“Yes.”

He placed the bag on the bench and pulled a box out of it. He felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to imagine what could be inside. Carefully he lifted the lid of the box. Inside it was a gold watch.

“Here, let me.”

Victor held out his arm, Yuuri slipped the watch over his wrist and fastened the clasp. Victor stared down at his arm, admiring the way the watch reflected the light. Yuuri took his hand, turned it over gently, as if to see how it fit, leaned forward and kissed Victor’s wrist.

“Let’s go back,” Yuuri said quietly, raising his eyes and looking into Victor’s face.

In that moment Victor knew he’d follow the boy anywhere.


	7. Just a Bit of Fun

Phichit caught up with Mila in the next street where she was holding onto a streetlamp and laughing herself almost to the point of being sick.

“What’s so funny?” And he smiled in anticipation of a good joke.

“Oh God, I can’t.” She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and tried to catch her breath. After a while she calmed down and asked: “Phichit, how long have you known Yuuri for?”

“Must be… five years now, I think.”

“And you don’t think it’s strange that he’s so different between his two programs?”

“Of course not! Yuuri is very good at… getting in character. I guess you could call it that.”

“Well,” she stopped talking to get more laughter out of her system, “have I got a story for you! But you absolutely have to promise not to post anywhere about it!”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Get this…” Mila paused for effect, “…Victor thinks there are two Yuuris!”

Phichit gave her a confused look. “But there _are_ two Yuris.”

“Yes, yes, but I don’t mean the Russian Yuri (we really need nicknames for them now). I mean he thinks there are two Yuuri Katsukis, you know–”

Phichit caught on to the idea and the rest of the sentence was said by both of them in unison, “–the seductive one and the innocent one!” They both burst out laughing.

“This is so wonderful!” Mila exclaimed. “It’s better than anything I could’ve come up with.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Alright, I’ll admit it: I wanted to get him all alone for a prank.” She opened her purse and showed Phichit what she’d hidden inside.

Phichit looked like someone who’d found a treasure. “Where did you get that from?”

“You can have it.” She was almost jumping from joy. “Have I got the best idea _ever_! And it really couldn’t be better! Here I am about to pull the best prank ever and not only is there someone to appreciate it, but you can help me as well!”

“Ooh! What do you want me to do?”

She told him her plan.

Phichit beamed. “You can count on me!” Then he frowned. “Yuuri might get angry at us for this, though.”

“Oh, it’s just a bit of fun! Besides,” she gave Phichit a knowing look, “if he gets it right, he’ll get everything he ever wanted or even more.”

“Ah, but you don’t know him like I do.” Phichit thought about the plan for a moment. “We can’t let him in on it. That will ruin that whole thing. But I think I can trick him into doing what we want anyway. Might be a good idea to get the other… the Russian Yuri to join us, though.”

“Why?”

“Because I think we might need his help.”

Mila held out her hand. “You’re in charge of photos and videos.”

“Thanks.” They shook hands and laughed the entire way back to the hotel.


	8. Fire and Ice

“So let me get this straight: you spent most of yesterday with Victor – This is _Victor Nikiforov_ , we’re talking about, right? As in you-made-me-watch-videos-of-all-of-his-skating-routines-at-least-5-times Victor Nikiforov? And the same Victor Nikiforov you have every poster of? Or is there some other Victor Nikiforov I don’t know about? No? So you spent most of yesterday with figure skating god Victor Nikiforov and you didn’t even _kiss_ him? I’m disappointed in you, Yuuri. I thought he’d been your idol all your life.” That was Phichit giving Yuuri a hard time before breakfast.

Now it was almost time for Yuuri Katsuki to skate his short program and as they waited for the other skaters to clear the ice Phichit eyed Yuuri thoughtfully.

Celestino opened his mouth, but Phichit beat him to it. “Can I speak to Yuuri, coach?”

“Sure.”

Phichit leaned forward and whispered into Yuuri’s ear. “Listen Yuuri, Mila talked to Victor yesterday when I ran into you and she found out that he really likes it when you’re seductive.” That word felt odd when Yuuri was two steps away and had that innocent look on his face. “So this time skate it like you really mean it. Don’t hold back. Show him your true Eros. And since you didn’t kiss him last night, then your goal is to get him to kiss you after you skate.” Phichit stepped back. “Do you understand, Yuuri?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and I know what you’ve been practicing..”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, rushing up to him. “Good luck!”

He reached out, probably expecting a hug, but Yuuri leaned forward until his lips were mere centimetres away from the Russian skater’s. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

And he skated away onto the middle of the ice.

Phichit saw Victor put his hand to his face. It all really worked on him. Had it been someone other than Yuuri they would have moved on way past kissing by now.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” Celestino said, “but it _is_ technically my job to give Yuuri his pep talks.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You should be focusing on your own performance. Don’t you want to win gold?”

“I do, but I also want Yuuri to win.” He looked around and saw Victor walk away along the perimeter of the skating rink as if in a daze. There was no one within earshot. “Mila and I have a bet going,” he watched Celestino’s face as he lied, hoping the coach would give himself away. “Her money’s on Victor, mine is on Yuuri. Of course, neither of us wins the bet if someone else gets the gold medal.”

“Like JJ or the Russian Yuri,” Celestino supplied.

_Ah, so you do have a bet going with Yakov!_ “We didn’t bet on any details of course, like who will break a world record or how much of a lead the first place will have over the second.”

Celestino had a smile on his face, but he remained quiet.

The music started and everyone’s attention was drawn to Yuuri Katsuki. The Japanese skater licked his lips, moved his hands around and was off across the ice. The Thai skater had never seen Yuuri skate his short program quite like that before. Who would have thought that a shy boy from a small town could skate with so much passion?

“You really are a bit of a playboy aren’t you?” Phichit whispered.

“I suppose it’s all my fault,” Celestino admitted. “I gave him the idea to seduce Victor.”

“It was a brilliant idea! I wish I’d thought of it.” _Why_ didn’t _I think of it?_

It was hard to tear your eyes away from Yuuri as he skated. If the previous time the Eros routine was about pleasure, this one appeared to focus more on possession. And possession of one specific person at that. Most of the time his eyes were on Victor and Phichit assumed that Victor returned the attention. He couldn’t tear his own eyes away to check.

“If I were Yakov,” Celestino said, “I’d be seriously worried for my pupil. If anyone can make him leave skating, Yuuri Katsuki can.”

“You don’t think he’ll…?”

“Oh, I doubt it. And, knowing Yuuri, he’ll try to keep Victor in skating with him for as long as possible. But sometimes skaters lose the will to compete because they can’t take it emotionally anymore.”

Phichit nodded. He understood what Celestino meant.

“Here it comes,” Celestino said and leaned forward.

Yuuri jumped. He did a quadruple flip and landed.

“Massimo!” Celestino exclaimed, waving his arms for emphasis. “Atta boy, Yuuri!”

And then the fiery dance was over.

The audience exploded into applause. “Yuuri! Yuuri!” they chanted.

Yuuri kept his final pose for several seconds as he got his breath back and then waved to them with a smile. Whatever had driven him throughout the skate had let go. He turned around and gave Phichit a happy grin. Or, perhaps, Phichit thought, noticing who stood next to him, the grin was meant for someone else.

“What did you think, Victor?” Yuuri asked as he stepped off the ice.

It was only then that Phichit became aware of the number of people who were standing around them. Mila managed to mix in with the crowd, too. Yakov was there with Yuri Plisetsky who was supposed to skate next. Otabek stood off to one side, following events with polite interest. In fact, the only person who seemed to be missing was JJ.

Yuri Plisetsky stepped onto the ice and turned around, waiting to hear what Victor’s evaluation of Yuuri’s dance would be.

“I feel as if you just made love to me,” Victor said and then he seemed to realize exactly what he’d said and turned bright red.

A stunned silence followed those words. Victor rushed away.

Phichit nudged Yuuri. “I think you overdid it. Even the ice is on fire.”

The Japanese skater put his hands over his face.

“Well done!” Mila whispered to Phichit and left.

Celestino took Yuuri to the kiss and cry to get his results.

 

Victor stood in front of one of the screens and watched Yuri Plisetsky skate. He managed to find an empty room and hoped that no one would come disturb him. He held one hand over his heart, in an attempt to calm it down. Needless to say, it wasn’t working.

The theme for Plisetsky’s skate was insanity, which – under his mastery of skating – had a kind of ethereal beauty to it. For the first time in his life Victor felt he really understood the message Yuri was trying to convey.

Yuri’s skate ended and the judges awarded him his scores. The commentator got super excited as he narrated events. Yuri Plisetsky broke Victor’s record!

In other circumstances this would have given Victor the determination to fight harder, but he was still in too much of a shock to react properly to what was happening.

Next on the ice was Yuuri’s friend, Phichit.

“Vitya! There you are!” Yakov walked into the room and took in Victor’s state. “Well, this is new.” The expression on his face softened and he put an arm on Victor’s shoulder. “He’s really messed with your heart, hasn’t he?”

Victor had gotten so used to the lectures over the years that he was thrown off by Yakov’s tone of voice. He wrapped his arms around his coach and nodded.

“I should’ve known it would happen to you eventually.”

That was how Yuri Plisetsky found them when he went looking for Victor after his triumph.

 

Yuri took in the sight of Victor crying into Yakov’s shoulder and sighed. If he hadn’t become friends with the Japanese Yuuri himself, he would probably have gone off and introduced the man to his fist. In fact, if Victor hadn’t been such a drama queen Yuri would’ve done it anyway.

“I guess that gold medal is mine,” Yuri said. “I didn’t think you would give up so quickly after someone beat your record.” He scoffed. “What a baby, honestly!”

Victor released Yakov and stared at Yuri. Plisetsky was surprised to see that Victor’s eyes were actually dry, but still he looked ready to break out into tears.

“I don’t understand why you’re so worked up over the other Yuuri.”

“I-I’m not worked up over _that_ Yuuri.”

“Yes, you are.” Yuri gave him an odd look.

“Ah! You mean the Japanese Yuuri!”

“What other Yuuri is there? You really _are_ stupid.” Yuri turned away from him. “I’m off to watch Otabek skate now. Try not to embarrass yourself too much when it’s your turn.”

 

Yuuri sat next to Phichit, watching Otabek’s short program. He’d noticed Yuri wave at Otabek and wish him luck and then listened to Phichit’s story of how Yuri had made a new friend. Mila sat on Phichit’s other side. From time to time she would make some sort of cryptic comment that Phichit understood, but left Yuuri completely clueless. Yuri Plisetsky sat behind them with his feet resting on the back of Yuuri’s chair.

“ _Ну что, Витя готов выйграть золото_?” Mila asked Yuri Plisetsky.

“ _Сейчас ему Яков сопли вытрет_.”

Mila laughed and Yuuri wondered what the two Russians had said.

Up next was Jean-Jacques Leroy. He skated out onto the ice full of confidence, one hand held up theatrically to his ear, listening to the audience chant his name. Yuuri heard Yuri scoff behind him.

Katsuki watched Jean-Jacques skate and marvelled at the technical difficulty of his program. When he got his score he was only a few points behind Yuri Plisetsky. There was a satisfied ‘hmph’ from behind Katsuki at that.

And then it was Victor’s turn. He found Yuuri in the crowd and waved.

“Looks like he’s pulled himself together,” Yuri mumbled just loud enough for Yuuri to hear.

Victor put his wrist to his lips and Yuuri blushed, remembering how he’d kissed the Russian’s hand.

“Yuri, did he see any of last night’s photos, do you think?” Mila asked.

“There are photos of last night?” Yuuri asked, wondering if he would stop blushing at any point during that day.

“He’s got his head too much in the clouds for that,” the Russian Yuri answered. “He was just talking to me as if there was some other Yuri in the competition.”

As if on cue both Mila and Phichit burst out laughing.

“I was starting to wonder if he was drunk,” Yuri muttered.

The music started and Victor skated. Once again, his theme was the exact opposite of Yuuri’s, but it was more than just unconditional love. While Yuuri seemed to say ‘you’re mine and I won’t let you go’ with his short program, Victor’s message was different.

_I will love you regardless of what you do. I will forgive you no matter what. In your eyes I found happiness and I know this bliss comes with a price, but I will pay it. You are sacred to me. You are above us all. I am honoured to have caught your eye even if for just a second._

“Good grief!” Mila whispered to Phichit. “And he told me he prefers the seductive one!”

“No, he prefers the “other, other one”,” Phichit whispered and they both giggled.

 

Yuuri clutched his hands together. As soon as Victor started to skate everything else faded into the background. Each of Victor’s jumps was repeated by his heart. And then as he got nearer the end of the skate there was a moment of flying through the heavens, of floating above the sky.

He didn’t even notice how he stood up and descended towards the kiss and cry. He was just aware that the moment Victor finished there he was, waiting.

Victor bowed as the audience applauded.

Someone brought him flowers and Yuuri thought absent-mindedly that that should have been him, but that thought was somewhere in the back of his mind, drowned out by everything else.

“Victor!” he shouted.

The Russian turned and waved with a smile. There was definitely something god-like about him, but not in the traditional sense of gods who went around smiting mortals, but the sort of gods who lived in far-off idyllic places and, when they came to visit the world of humans, didn’t know the most basic things about them and so they did something stupid like giving out a lot of gold to thieves or… _falling in love with a mortal._

Yuuri blushed.

Victor skated up to him and held out his hand. Yuuri took it reverently.

“The other Yuri told me you were upset.”

“Did he say anything else? Anything about me?”

“I don’t think so…” Yuuri searched his memory. What else had Yuri Plisetsky said? “Mila said there are photos of last night. Phichit must have posted them. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was following us until much later.”

“I look forward to seeing them,” Victor said. He left the ice, while still holding Yuuri’s hand and only released it to follow Yakov to the kiss and cry.

“We’re now waiting for Victor Nikiforov’s score…” the commentator told the rest of the world.

“Here,” Mila handed Yuuri her phone. He wondered when she’d managed to sneak up on him.

“Thank you.” He scrolled through the photos she’d posted online until the realization sunk in. “You took photos of us too…” _I wonder if anyone else followed us last night._

“ – points. Victor Nikiforov beat Yuri Plisetsky, who had broken his record earlier!”

Yuuri raised his head and looked at the screen that displayed Victor’s score. After the short program he was in fourth place. He was barely ten points behind first, but even a difference of 0.1 points would mean a loss.

Mila smiled at him. “Looks like Victor is well on his way to get the gold medal.”

Handing her back her phone, he said, “We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:  
> Ну что, Витя готов выйграть золото? = Well, is Vitya ready to win gold?  
> Сейчас ему Яков сопли вытрет. = Let Yakov wipe his nose first. (not a literal translation, but it sounds better like this. Literally, it's "wipe his snot".)


	9. Better Company

Yakov took both of his pupils out for dinner to celebrate the double breaking of the world record. The other skaters split up into little groups. Yuuri found himself sitting all alone in the hotel lobby, going through all of the previous night’s photos.

_Why did I agree to this dinner? Yuri doesn’t want to be here either._ Victor texted him.

Yuuri didn’t know what to reply to that.

_What are you doing right now?_ Victor wrote several minutes later.

_Looking at the photos Phichit posted._

_So am I._

After another five minutes Yuuri got another text: _Yuri and I are going to sneak away._

_Are you sure it’s a good idea?_

_Yuri will leave with or without me._

Fifteen minutes later Yuri Plisetsky burst into the hotel lobby, Victor following close behind.

They were arguing in Russian. Victor raised his hands in a placating gesture. Yuri poked him in the chest. Amidst all of the foreign words Yuuri thought he heard his name. Victor turned red and only then did the both of them realize that Yuuri Katsuki was there. The three of them stood in the middle of the hotel lobby and stared at each other.

Yuri flicked his hair angrily and stormed off.

“Sorry about that,” Victor said.

“You’ll just have to tolerate my company instead of the other Yuri’s,” Yuuri joked and Victor gave him a strange look. “I think there’s someone else the other Yuri would rather be with.”

Now Victor looked very troubled. “There is?”

“Or maybe he’s just tired.” He smiled at Victor and held out his hand. “Should we go somewhere?”

“Yes.” Victor took the offered hand, but something was still preying on his mind.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

Yuuri’s phone made a text message alert noise and he pulled it out.

_Yuuri, this is important_. Phichit wrote. _I think you overdid it with the Eros routine._

Yuuri was about to put his phone away when he got another text.

_When you next see Victor, just be yourself._

Yuuri sighed and pocketed his phone.

“What is it?”

“It’s not important. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“I was hoping you’d recommend something. Did you get to eat?”

“Yes. We can get dessert.”

 

Victor sat across the table from Yuuri and watched him eat a slice of cake. He was at a loss. It was just his luck that after the seductive Yuuri completely stole his heart he vanished and left him with the innocent one.

_He’s playing cat and mouse with me and thinks I don’t realize it. I wish I could tell him that he shouldn’t bother. I’m still on fire just thinking about that short program._

Yuuri gave him a look of wide-eyed curiously. “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just remembering today’s skate.”

Yuuri’s face was beet-red at those words. “Y-yes… ah!” He dropped his spoon and went hunting for it under the table.

_He’s so cute! … But still no match for my Yuuri._

Yuuri crawled out from under the table and fidgeted.

“Maybe you should ask for another spoon,” Victor suggested.

“N-no that’s… it’s…it’s alright.”

_He’s all flustered now._ He put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder to calm him down. “I can ask for you, if you like.”

“I can do it. It’s really no problem.”

Victor chuckled. “If you’re sure.”

He watched Yuuri call the waiter over and ask for another spoon. The other Yuuri was so unpredictable, so impulsive that Victor was constantly caught off guard. This Yuuri was probably more dependable, but where was the fun in that?

They finished dessert and headed out for a short walk. Victor held Yuuri’s hand and tried to tell himself that it was really the other way around. They stopped in a discrete corner and Yuuri fingered the buttons on his coat nervously, one hand still in Victor’s.

_I think he wants to kiss me_ , Victor realized and wondered how to lead the situation into less dangerous territory. He’d made up his mind and he was going to remain faithful to the other Yuuri even if he was just toying with him.

“We should go back,” Victor said gently. “Important day tomorrow.”

“Y-yes,” Yuuri turned away and released Victor’s hand.

Victor felt a pang of guilt.

_This is starting to get ridiculous!_ He reached for the boy’s hand, but Yuuri put both hands in his pockets.

They returned to the hotel in glum silence, which went on through the elevator ride. When they got to Yuuri’s floor Victor put his arms around him.

“Good luck tomorrow, Yuuri.”

“Ah! G-good luck to you too.” He stepped away and smiled.

Victor felt his heart melt. Despite everything, it was still the same smile.


	10. Failures and Successes

At breakfast Mila and Phichit sat apart from everyone else and compared notes. This involved a lot of whispering and giggling. At some point Phichit pulled out his phone and showed her something on it.

“You two are really annoying!” Yuri Plisetsky complained, stopping by their table with Otabek in tow. “I did what you wanted yesterday and now I demand you tell me what the hell that was all about!”

“Calm down,” Mila said, drinking her tea. “We don’t want everyone to know. Not yet, anyway.” She exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Phichit.

“This is too much! I’m getting out of here!”

Mila caught his arm, pulled him close and whispered, “We’re about to pull the biggest prank ever on Victor, so don’t tell him anything, okay?”

Yuri glared at her and then at Phichit. He turned away and said to Otabek, “Let’s go have breakfast somewhere else.”

They left and Phichit asked, “What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” Mila returned to her tea. “I told him we’re about to pull a prank. He probably wants to be in on it, but he thinks involving Otabek is a bad idea.”

“Is it?”

“I’m not sure Otabek would approve.”

Mila’s phone made a noise and she read the text she got. “Here you go.” She put it down on the table and Phichit read:

_You will tell me about it later!_

“I told you we should’ve let him in on it yesterday. I’m surprised he agreed to go to the dinner and then run off.”

Mila shrugged. “He just wanted a free dinner.” She remembered standing next to him when Yakov made the invitation. “Or he didn’t want to look bad in front of Otabek. I bet he didn’t tell him that he ran away.”

“Oh look! Here come the lovebirds now!”

Phichit and Mila watched Yuuri and Victor walk into the breakfast room.

“Oh dear,” Mila shook her head. “Did they fight already?”

Victor was two steps behind Yuuri. This time they weren’t holding hands.

“Hmmm…” Phichit eyed them thoughtfully. “Yuuri looks confused. Maybe it’s just Victor.”

“That idiot! Trust him to mess up something as simple as a date!” Mila hissed and then an idea occurred to her. “He told me he preferred “the seductive one”. Do you think he’s acting cold towards “the innocent one” because he thinks he’d be cheating otherwise?”

“That’s hilarious!”

They couldn’t stop laughing despite the angry glances of the people around them and even when it became obvious that Victor and Yuuri planned to sit with them at breakfast.

“Good morning! What’s so funny?” Yuuri asked.

“You two are!” Mila said. “Do you know how furious Yakov is with you, Victor? You’re a bad influence on our “living figure skating legend”, Yuuri!”

Yuuri turned red and threw a guilty look at Victor.

“Don’t blame him. It was my choice.” Victor pulled a chair out for Yuuri and took the seat next to him.

“Mila’s right,” Yuuri said. “You should’ve stayed with Yakov.”

Victor sighed and started on his breakfast. “It’s so boring to always do what’s proper…” he mumbled.

Mila and Phichit exchanged glances and fought hard to keep straight faces.

“Did you forget to get yourself something to drink?” Phichit asked Yuuri. “I can get you something. What would you like?”

“Tea, please.”

“I’ll get it.” Phichit stood up.

Victor rose almost at the same time. “No, let me. Do you want anything in it?”

“Just plain tea, please.”

Mila watched him leave and smiled at Yuuri. “You’ll have to teach me how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Have Victor at your beck and call, of course!”

Phichit sat back down. “Listen, Yuuri. I’m giving you your pep talk right now, because yesterday Celestino was angry at me for treading in his territory, so pay attention.”

“Yes?”

Phichit let out a long breath. He tried to ignore the fact that Mila was watching him with interest. Celestino may have had the brilliant idea that led to their present circumstances, but he had had a good one the previous evening. “I know how good you are at pretending.” Phichit smiled. “So here is your task for today: I want you to pretend you’re Victor Nikiforov.”

“What?”

Mila burst out laughing.

Yuuri blushed. Phichit put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Think of that confidence he has.”

Mila threw a look at the food table. “Confidence is coming back.”

“Phichit, I know you mean well,” Yuuri said, “but I don’t want to pretend to be someone else. I will win as myself.”

Phichit enveloped Yuuri in a hug. “Of course you will!”

“Did I miss something?” Victor asked.

Mila giggled. “Oh, lots of things.”

Victor waited for Phichit to release Yuuri and set the cup of tea down. He sat down and returned to his breakfast. “Well, if you don’t want to tell me…” Now he was sulking.

Yuuri picked up the cup of tea. “Thank you, Victor. Phichit was just giving me a pep talk.”

“Shouldn’t I be doing that?”

“Shouldn’t you be giving the _other_ Yuri pep talks?” Mila asked.

“Mila!” Victor hissed at her. “You’re not supposed to –”

“Yuuri, you’re really popular all of a sudden!” Mila interrupted. “If you’d like a pep talk from me, then here it is.” She held out her phone to show him a photo she’d snapped of Yuuri and Victor.

It was the moment right after the dance ended. Yuuri had a triumphant smile on his face, his forehead pressed against Victor’s. The Russian man’s face was a mix of surprise, awe and adoration.

“If I were you, I’d get this one framed.”

“Don’t show him that!” Victor exclaimed, lunging for the phone.

Everyone else at the table stared at him in surprise.

“Why not?” Mila asked, suspecting that she knew the reason why.

Victor looked caught out. “Because… Ah! Well, look, my hair is a mess in this one. It’s not flattering at all!”

“Well, maybe there’s a better one of you…” Mila said. “Which one do you think is more flattering?” And she showed him more photos from the dance.

“Yuuri, did you finish your breakfast?”

“N-no.”

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

“Victor, we have another hour.”

“Then we can be early.”

Something odd was going on with Victor and Yuuri wondered what it was or if he would ever find out. “Can I finish my breakfast, please?”

Victor straightened his shirt and fixed his hair. “Yes, of course.”

“What’s ruffled your feathers?” Mila asked.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re sure.” Mila shrugged. “Oh no, here comes Yakov.”

Yakov walked past their table, pointedly ignoring it. Celestino was walking next to him. He waved at the skaters as he passed them.

“He hates me now!” Victor wailed, his hands on his head.

Phichit snapped several photos of Yakov and then of Victor.

“What are you doing?” Yuuri whispered to his friend.

“Documenting this historic moment, of course. The great Victor Nikiforov, ignored by his coach.” Phichit lowered his phone. “All I need now is a funny caption.”

“How about… ‘When your coach knows you’d rather be with an _other_ person rather than spend time with him’?” Mila suggested.

“Hmm… What do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuuri got up. “I think it’s time for practice.”

Things were getting too weird too quickly. He was worried that Phichit and Mila were planning something. They had become as thick as thieves overnight and he both wanted to know what it was and dreaded the explanation.

He gulped down his panic as his imagination started to play out different scenarios that could explain what was going on. He desperately needed a distraction.

Victor joined Yuuri without saying anything and they left.

“Well,” Mila said, “the only question now is when do we tell the Russian Yuri.”

 

“How do you both feel?” Celestino asked his pupils after the morning’s practice.

“Really excited!” Phichit exclaimed.

Yuuri remained quiet. He watched Victor out of the corner of his eye. Why had he been so cold with him the previous evening and again this morning? Had he, Yuuri, done something wrong? He thought of his skate and the events afterwards. They’d been so happy! He gave a heavy sigh. How much longer would he be able to deal with this before he got overwhelmed completely? Then he looked at his coach.

“I’m thinking of retiring,” he suddenly said and was surprised to hear himself say it. It had been something he’d pondered in the back of his mind and now he said it, it frightened him as if saying it aloud meant it had to happen.

“What?” Phichit and Celestino exclaimed.

“Why? What happened, Yuuri?” Celestino asked.

“Well… maybe retire isn’t exactly what I mean.” Yuuri lowered his eyes. “But I don’t want to compete against Victor anymore. From now on I’m going to avoid competitions with him.”

“This again…” Celestino muttered not quite under his breath. “Look, Yuuri, I already told you: you don’t have to be shy just because he’s your idol.”

“That’s not it,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want to compete against him. I’ve looked up to him for so long that I’m subconsciously giving him the gold medal all the time.”

“What?” Phichit exclaimed. “Don’t do that, Yuuri!”

Yuuri gave a sad smile. “Everyone else is trying so hard, but I’ve given up and I can’t do a thing about it. Maybe I need a break.”

“This is the worst break up I’ve ever seen!” Phichit said angrily. “Why can’t you talk to him properly?”

“It’s not a break up! We weren’t even together!”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit cried and pulled his friend close. “It’s all my fault!” He sobbed into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault at all! You’ve done nothing but help me the whole way. Sometimes I wonder how anyone can put up with me and my mental weakness.”

“You’re not weak, Yuuri.”

“I am!” Now they were both crying.

Celestino put his arms around his pupils.

 

The free skate started with Phichit. It was obvious that he was still incredibly upset: some of his usual flair was gone, but as he skated his mood improved.

_I won’t let you leave skating, Yuuri. Not if it’s because of me. Not if it’s because your idol is a big blockhead. I promise I will make you change your mind before the day ends! Now if only I could make you win somehow._ He spotted Mila in the audience. _It’s a good thing I never really had a bet with you, Mila, otherwise I’d feel even worse about what I’ve done._

He jumped and landed.

As soon as his skate ended and they gave him his score he would go looking for Mila to update her on the latest developments. He knew that rumours were already going around. People had seen them crying, after all.

The only thing they’d succeeded in between him and Celestino was to convince Yuuri to postpone his decision until after the Grand Prix Final was over. They told him it was a decision that required more consideration and a clear head. He had to be _absolutely_ sure.

Yuuri just gave a sad little smile.

That smile broke Phichit’s heart. The prank he was about to pull with Mila didn’t seem so funny anymore.

His skate ended and he held his final pose for several seconds before collapsing onto the ice. He’d gone all out. Somehow he found the strength to get up and skate to the exit. He saw Otabek standing at the entrance, getting ready to go.

Celestino greeted his pupil with his usual enthusiasm, but Phichit knew him well enough to see that the coach’s mood was as marred by the morning’s conversation as his was.

Together they sat in the kiss and cry as his scores were announced. He’d beat his personal best again and smiled as he took a photo with his coach. It was going to be a really tight competition. After the short program everyone’s scores were very close together.

He had no illusions about his own chances of winning. Even at his best he only had one quad, while everyone else in the final could do more. And then there was skating god Victor Nikiforov who managed to win the Rostelecom Cup without any quads in his short program.

Otabek’s free skate began and Phichit went off to find Yuuri. His friend needed him now more than ever.

Mila sent him a text saying that Yuri Plisetsky was now in on the plan, but he didn’t reply. He’d changed his mind about seeing her. He just wasn’t in the mood and there were more important things that demanded his attention.

Yuuri was on his way to the ice when both Phichit and Victor found him.

“I need to talk to you,” Victor said and stopped, seeing Phichit take Yuuri very carefully by the hand as if Yuuri was made of glass.

“He’s not talking to anyone,” Phichit told him. “Yuuri needs to get ready for his free skate.”

“But this is important!” Victor protested. “I heard people say that you were retiring after this!” He took Yuuri’s free hand. “You can’t do this! Stay with me! This has been the best season of my whole career!”

Yuuri stared up at him. “Please don’t make assumptions based on rumours.” He gently freed his arm.

Victor stood still and watched him walk away.

Phichit wanted to shout at him, to tell him to do something instead of just standing there, but Yuuri was clinging on to him as if his life depended on it and he felt as if stopping now would mean Yuuri wouldn’t even make it to the ice.

They stood by the entrance to the ice and tears rolled down Yuuri’s face.

“Yuuri, please,” Phichit whispered, “tell me what to say to make this better.”

Celestino appeared at Yuuri’s other side. “Listen to me, Yuuri, whatever you decide is up to you. Just make sure that you have no regrets no matter what.”

Yuuri raised his head and looked at Celestino. “O-okay.”

“Now, come on! Pull yourself together!” He took a box of tissues, pulled one out and wiped the tears from Yuuri’s face. “You know I like to think of my pupils as my children, Yuuri.” Celestino tapped Yuuri’s nose. “I hope you don’t regret having me as your coach, because I enjoyed every moment. And don’t blame yourself for anything.”

Yuuri nodded. He took another tissue and blew his nose.

“Good. Now, Otabek is done.” He offered Yuuri his arm. Yuuri leaned against him and removed the guards from his skates.

“Thank you for everything, Celestino. Don’t blame yourself for my failures.”

“Yuuri, you don’t have any failures, just successes.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Celestino patted the top of Yuuri’s head. “Each time you go out on the ice with your anxiety is a small success, believe me.”

Yuuri broke into a smile. “Thank you.”

Otabek walked past them. Yuuri got onto the ice.

“Yuuri! Good luck!” Victor shouted, trying to run and stumbling on his skates. Celestino caught him by the arm before he could fall over and hurt himself. “Good luck!”

Yuuri smiled.

Phichit pulled out his phone and texted Mila: _We need a new plan._

_I know,_ she responded. _I saw what state they’re in._

Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix the damage they’d done. Phichit’s face brightened.

Yuuri skated away, spreading out his arms.

Phichit clasped his hands and prayed.

The music started. It had been composed for Yuuri by a conservatory student. It was meant to symbolize Yuuri’s career. The student made two different versions before she got it right. What Yuuri didn’t know was that Phichit wrote her an essay explaining what the music had to sound like and that Phichit had gone on at length about Yuuri’s struggles.

_You really love him, don’t you?_ the composer wrote back.

Phichit’s response was: _Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking_.

And now he watched Yuuri skate and felt an odd jealousy. He wasn’t jealous of his friend’s talents or of the attention he was getting. He wasn’t even jealous of the love between him and Victor Nikiforov. Of everyone he knew Phichit couldn’t think of a single person who was more in love with the Russian skater, so it was only natural that he was loved in return and neither did he want Yuuri for himself.

He was jealous of Victor’s influence. All of the months of pep talks, all of the years of friendship, all of the tears were rendered insignificant by the effect that man had on Yuuri. It wasn’t the shout, but the show of faith that had given Yuuri courage.

_One day I want to inspire someone like that_.

He watched Yuuri go through his routine, changing it, upping the difficulty and he knew what Yuuri was doing: he was aiming for four quads in his program to match the difficulty of Victor’s. All of that doubt was swept aside as Yuuri poured his heart and soul into the routine. For Yuuri it wasn’t a battle, but a confession and it suited the music perfectly.

Phichit sighed. Victor had no idea what a treasure he had in Yuuri. He was too stupid to get past his misunderstanding to realize that, yes, that _was all one person_. With a stupidity like that Victor needed to prove that he deserved Yuuri. Being a stunning figure skating legend just wasn’t enough. Yuuri was strong like a tree that would bend under a sudden gust of wind, but not break. Yuuri had enough strength to lend it to others and Phichit himself had borrowed it more than once.

To think that he nearly destroyed him!

Phichit watched Yuuri land a quad and, several seconds later, another one.

No, he couldn’t have destroyed that iron will. If he believed in anything, he had to believe in that.

“Yuuri, you can do it,” he whispered, clasping his hands tighter. He was holding his breath as Yuuri got to his last jump.

And then he could breathe freely at last.

Yuuri stood with one hand over his heart and the other arced towards Victor. There were tears in the Russian skater’s eyes.

“What a magnificent performance!” the commentator shouted.

Yuuri raised his hands and let out a yell of triumph.

Celestino met his pupil with all the praise he could come up with. Some of the words he repeated more than once and some of the words he invented on the spot.

Yuuri smiled gratefully at him, and then at Phichit and finally at Victor. The Russian stood still as if the smile had frozen him to the spot.

Yuuri followed Celestino to the kiss and cry.

The commentator exploded with excitement. “And Yuuri Katsuki broke Victor Nikiforov’s record for the free skate to get a total score of 301.55! He is currently in first place!”

“Now what?” Victor whispered.

Jean-Jacques was next on the ice.


	11. The Gold Medal

Yuuri and Phichit watched Jean-Jacques skate.

“I never appreciated just how strong you are, Yuuri,” Phichit said. “I never doubted your strength, but…” He reclined in his seat. “I’m not that strong.”

Yuuri stared at him in mute surprise.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Phichit said and went quiet once JJ finished. They waited for his scores to be announced.

“And Jean-Jacques Leroy’s total score is 299.58!”

Phichit nodded to himself. “I knew he wouldn’t beat you.”

“There you two are!” Mila exclaimed, joining the two skaters. She took a seat next to Phichit. “I was just talking to Yuri. He looks ready to fight. If Yakov’s not careful he might even get punched. The god of skating, on the other hand, has been locked away from the view of us lowly mortals. Yakov isn’t letting him talk to anyone until he skates.” She translated. “I think he’s worried something will break Victor’s concentration.”

Yuuri watched Plisetsky step out onto the ice. He did look ready for a fight. He raised his eyes. Otabek wished him good luck and got a thumbs-up in return.

The two Yuris locked eyes and exchanged a nod.

_May the best skater win._

“Come on, Yuri,” Katsuki whispered.

The Russian Yuri’s free skate was to Allegro Appassionato – a difficult piece with a mad tempo. He landed his jumps with incredible grace. Each movement matched the music perfectly. The entire performance had that sharpened feel that only hours of practice can achieve. Yuri Plisetsky was strong and had the potential to become stronger.

_I want us to stay friends no matter what happens,_ Yuuri Katsuki thought, _and I think you feel the same way._

Yuri Plisetsky finished and held his final pose.

The audience responded with another round of enthusiastic applause.

 

They waited for the scores. Yuri Plisetsky sat with Yakov while Victor prepared to make his entrance onto the ice. Victor’s head was lowered.

“And the score for Yuri Plisetsky is 301.43. He is currently in second place!”

Victor turned and he and Yuri exchanged a look. There was a sarcastic smile on Yuri’s face. _What will you do now? He’s beaten me, but can he beat you?_

Victor turned away. He skated to assume his initial position. Yuri Plisetsky had seen him do it countless times and always he did it with ease and grace as if he’d been born on skates. This time there was something very different about him. Watching him, Yuri Plisetsky was – for some reason – reminded of old war movies when the soldiers marched towards the battlefield, knowing full well that not all of them would return.

Yuri Plisetsky looked over to where Katsuki sat. There wasn’t enough time for him to join everyone else before Victor’s free skate started and he wasn’t going to miss a single second of it.

_He might be stupid enough to think there are two of you, Yuuri Katsuki, but at least he has enough of a brain to take you seriously as a competitor._

Yuri Plisetsky stayed at the kiss and cry. Yakov sat next to him. Victor had told them that he didn’t want anyone to talk to him until his free skate was done.

He got into position and waited for his music to start.

Yuri thought of the photos Mila and Phichit had posted. Victor had found happiness and wasn’t really aware of it and it was obvious that the feeling was mutual. Idiots.

He’d heard the rumours that Yuuri Katsuki was retiring, of course, but didn’t believe them. All it took was Katsuki’s free skate to show that he wasn’t ready to retire.

The music started. Yuri listened to the lyrics for the hundredth time and knew that the rumour had gotten it all backwards.

_I won’t return,_ the singer assured everyone in a half-whisper,

_That’s what the fog also said once_

_As it swallowed my words and turned them into water._

_I’ll give everything to keep going. I’ll leave behind_

_My carefree freedom._

_Oh not to lose in silver my only one,_

_My cherished one._

Victor had been torn before this season. He was a five-time world champion who’d run out of ways to surprise the audience. He was starting to talk as if it was time for him to move on to something else. But he’d stayed. He’d choreographed Yuri Plisetsky’s skating routines. He had come up with new routines for himself. But most of the fight had gone out of him. And then Yuuri Katsuki happened, not knowing that he’d barged into Victor Nikiforov’s life at just the right moment. But something felt wrong, as if Victor wasn’t meant to compete against Yuuri Katsuki. At least, not like this.

Plisetsky wasn’t superstitious, but he couldn’t help wondering if it was Fate that made Victor choose this song for his free skate. He suspected that the message of wanting to find the strength to go on, despite losing his way, was what had made him choose it initially. But the line _‘oh not to lose in silver my cherished one’_ had a different meaning now.

_I’m out of sorts_

_From this quiet and hostile winter_

_That I’m so familiar with._

_We can’t stand each other._

Victor landed his jumps perfectly, but the audience watched in amazement as tears began to flow down his cheeks.

_He’s really getting into it,_ Yuri thought. He remembered the amount of time Victor spent picking the music and then searching for the right version and how excited he’d been when he found this one.

_And I will never make it_

_To the war_

_While my mad star_

_Is leading me in circles._

He was no god. And that’s what they always forgot. Or, rather, they’d forgotten it long ago and never remembered that he was just another human being.

Was the Japanese Yuuri also crying? Plisetsky wondered, but he was too far away to tell. He couldn’t possibly know what Victor was thinking: the song was in Russian. And then the instrumental part swept in and lyrics weren’t important anymore.

_Talk about drama! He can’t do anything like a normal human being, can he? Not only is he as dumb as a bag of bricks, but he can’t even confess his feelings properly!_

He hoped Mila and Phichit’s plan would work, because this was getting ridiculous, _really_ ridiculous. It was obvious that without some kind of external push Victor and Yuuri would be forever locked in their stupid misunderstanding.

_Oh not to lose in silver my only one,_

_My cherished one._

Victor’s performance ended, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The audience chanted his name. He stood with his head lowered.

“Victor!” Yuuri shouted. He stood at the exit from the ice.

Yuri Plisetsky watched Victor turn and look at Yuuri and then skate towards him. The audience cheered happily.

_Give them all a show,_ Yuri thought sarcastically and realized that he was also crying.

 

Victor embraced Yuuri and wept into his shoulder. He felt as if a dam had opened and everything that had built up inside him over the previous day was released in a torrent all at once. He’d never cried, not like this when the tears won’t stop and the whole body shakes, so he hadn’t expected to feel so much relief when he’d finished. He raised his head and looked at Yuuri.

“Oh, Yuuri!”

Yuuri had tears in his eyes as well, but he couldn’t know why Victor was crying.

“Yuuri!” he exclaimed again and searched for the right words. He leaned closer and then by an odd coincidence his eye was caught by something behind Yuuri and he thought he’d spotted a familiar figure in the crowd. He pulled back and released him.

He couldn’t. Not now.

He let out a long frustrated sigh.

The innocent one had given him his heart, but he’d already given it away to the seductive one.

He turned away and saw Yuri Plisetsky standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. “The kiss and cry is over there.”

Yakov was already waiting for him. There was a smile on his face. That probably meant that he hadn’t made any mistakes. Victor had been so swept up in his emotions that he hardly knew which jumps he’d made, how he’d landed or anything else, really. He was only aware of the words of the song and how one line resonated with him so much.

Yakov put an arm on Victor’s shoulder. He opened his mouth and Victor braced himself for a lecture.

But the scores were put on display and the commentator was reading them out before Yakov could say anything.

“What a shocking result! Victor Nikiforov’s total score is 301.35! This puts him in third place behind Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetsky!”

Victor stared at the score, and then at the two Yuris, unable to understand what had happened. All three of them exchanged puzzled glances.

“Yuuri, you won!” Phichit exclaimed, running up to his friend and embracing him. “You won! Yuuri Katsuki, everyone!”

“There must be a mistake…” Yuuri whispered. “How…?”

Victor got up with a smile and held out his hand. “Congratulations!”

Yuuri took his hand and shook it. He shook Yuri Plisetsky’s hand next. Victor wrapped an arm around each of the Yuris. “Ah! I get to stand on the podium between my two Yuris!”

“Actually…” Yuuri said quietly.

Yuri Plisetsky wrenched himself free and stood on Katsuki’s other side. “Yuuri gets to stand _in the middle_.” He smiled at Yuuri. “ _Тёзка_.”

“What does that mean?” Phichit asked.

“It’s what you call someone who has the same name as you,” Victor translated.

“Let’s ditch this boring old geezer and go celebrate,” Yuri Plisetsky said to Katsuki.

Victor watched Yuuri’s face, wondering what answer he’d give. He really was sweet, Victor decided. He always tried to please everyone, sometimes to the point of inconveniencing himself. He’d understand if Victor told him the truth. He knew what to do now, but first he needed to catch him alone.

Yuuri looked around at everyone.

“Well, what words of wisdom will the champion give us?” Phichit asked, his phone recording the moment for posterity.

“Drinks are on Yakov!” Celestino boomed.

Yakov cleared his throat, blushing. “Yes, well…”

“What’s going on?” someone asked as everyone else laughed and shouted, “It’s true!”

“No running off this time!” Yakov exclaimed, grabbing both of his pupils by their arms. “It’s bad enough that neither of you could win gold!”

There was more laughter at those words.

 

It was so surreal, standing in the middle with a gold medal around his neck, Yuri Plisetsky on one side and Victor Nikiforov on the other. The Japanese national anthem played as cameras snapped photos all around them.

When the ceremony was over Victor got down and held out his hand to help Yuuri.

Yuuri took it and Victor leaned forward to whisper, “I need to talk to you.”

Yuuri nodded to show he understood. Around them people continued to record every instant. He smiled at Plisetsky.

“I hope Yakov takes us somewhere decent. I didn’t like the place he picked last time,” the Russian Yuri complained.

 

The bar was full of skaters and their coaches getting drinks in before the banquet. They all knew that there would be drinks at the banquet, but champagne paled in comparison with getting to choose their drink and then getting Yakov Feltsman to pay for it.

Yakov and Celestino sat in a corner, both tipsy and both arguing about something.

Phichit sat down next to Mila. “I snuck past them just now. Do you know what their new bet is?”

Mila considered various options. She threw a look at the corner where Yuuri sat with Victor. “You don’t mean…”

Phichit nodded. “We really need to do something.”

Mila snorted. “If we don’t, they’ll never get anywhere.” She remembered the look she’d seen on Victor’s face as they walked into the bar. “Actually, Victor seems ready to undo all of his progress.”

“I’ve given up on Yuuri. He spent all of that time with Victor and _still_ couldn’t get a single kiss from him!”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was!”

They watched the lovebirds in thoughtful silence.

 

Victor and Yuuri left early for the banquet. They barely had a drink each, watching each other nervously.

The Russian skater stopped Yuuri outside of the banquet venue and said, “Can I talk to you now while there is no one to interrupt us?”

Yuuri nodded and they went around the building, picking a spot that was as far away from the entrance as possible.

Victor stepped back from Yuuri, but forced himself to look into the boy’s face. He felt he owed him that much. “I have to apologize. There is no real excuse for my behaviour and I understand if you don’t want to speak to me ever again.”

The look on Yuuri’s face was that of puzzlement. Victor forced himself to go on.

“When I found out I should have confronted you about it and then I’m sure it wouldn’t have been this way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… the truth… I mean, that is… After today’s skate I’m convinced that you will understand and I’d rather I told you than… someone else.”

Yuuri still looked very puzzled. In fact, Victor suspected that what he was saying wasn’t what Yuuri had expected to hear at all. _He probably thought I was going to confess!_

“I mean my not having any experience in these matters isn’t a valid excuse, I know, and – as an adult – I should be able – I should know better –”

“Victor,” Yuuri held up a hand to stop the outflow of words, “what are you saying?”

_I know there are two of you._ The words rose in his throat, but he just couldn’t say them. “I… ah… I’ve been leading you on, I’m sorry.”

“Leading me on?”

_It’s not an expression he’s familiar with? Why does he have to be so innocent? The seductive one would have understood me right away. But I will say something different to him._ He forced himself to stay calm. What did people say in this situation? “There is… someone.”

“Someone?”

“Yes. I mean someone… else.”

He waited for Yuuri’s reaction.

Yuuri turned away. Was he crying? Was he leaving? Would he say anything?

“Yuuri! Victor!” Plisetsky rounded the corner of the building. “What the hell are you doing over there? The banquet is about to start!” He looked at both of them. “Oy! Тёзка, you promised me a dance-off, remember?”

Yuuri nodded, but still Victor couldn’t see his expression. Plisetsky could, but he didn’t say anything, which made Victor think that he must be putting on a brave face. He wished Yuuri would shout at him, or at least cry. He wanted to see the boy’s reaction. _Needed_ to see it.

And that thought paralyzed him. Could he go and confess to the seductive one after this?

There was a sharp pain in his leg and he realized that the Russian Yuri was kicking him.

“Going deaf in your old age, Victor? Let’s go! They’re waiting for us! They can’t have a banquet for the Grand Prix without the medalists, can they?”

“Yes, right.”

He let himself be led away by the Russian Yuri and the Japanese Yuuri followed them

 

The banquet hall was full of people when they arrived and it looked as if every single person in the room turned around to greet them.

“Victor!” Mila exclaimed, running up to him and grabbing his arm. “Come here! Yakov is looking for you!”

He followed her, throwing a glance over his shoulder, but Yuuri Katsuki had already disappeared with Yuri Plisetsky.

Several minutes later an argument broke out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Victor skates to is a sort of thank you from me to the group that sings it because I wrote this whole fanfiction while listening to their music on repeat. At some point I couldn't write anything if I wasn't listening to them.


	12. Introducing the Two Yuris

Katsuki listened to Plisetsky argue loudly with someone about music. Finally the man gave up and left with the Russian skater’s CD in his hand.

Plisetsky turned around and threw a triumphant look at Yuuri. “Let’s he how long it takes him. If he doesn’t change the music soon, I will go over there myself.”

“Can we get some champagne?”

“Didn’t you drink earlier?”

“Yes, Victor ordered vodka.”

“Isn’t champagne after vodka a bad idea?”

“I don’t really care right now.”

Yuri gave him a suspicious look. “Fine. Whatever.”

They went to the drinks table where Plisetsky watched Katsuki down one glass after another as if they were full of coloured water and not alcohol.

When the Japanese skater downed his third glass the Russian held out his hand. “Alright! That’s enough! Come with me.”

 

Victor listened to Yakov talk to one of the sponsors and wished he could think of an excuse to leave. He still couldn’t spot Yuuri in the crowd. Did the boy leave already? He kept an eye on the door just in case.

Mila came to his rescue and he smiled the moment he noticed her walking towards him.

“Hello, Mila!”

“Victor,” she nodded at him and then at everyone else around him, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

That seemed like a good enough reason to leave. He excused himself and followed her through the crowd. There wasn’t as much mingling this time. Maybe it was still too early in the evening and people preferred to stay in groups with their friends. Whatever the reason, Victor felt as if he had crossed from the sponsors’ half to the skaters’ half.

“Who is it, Mila?” he asked finally. He was fairly certain he knew all of the skaters there, even if only by name.

“You’ll see soon enough. I’m going to grant your dearest wish!”

“Y-you are?”

“Yes, you get to meet the _other_ Yuuri. Isn’t that great?” Mila grabbed his arm before he could escape.

She dragged him all of the way to the drinks table where Yuuri stood with a sad look on his face and a glass of champagne in his hand. There was an empty glass on the table in front of him.

Victor stood still, unable to breathe.

Yuuri raised his eyes at him and gave him a bitter smile. “And here comes the great Victor Nikiforov now! The other Yuuri told me I have to stay and wait for you.”

Victor felt the blood rush to his face.

Yuuri stepped forward unsteadily and poked him in the chest. “I’ve waited all this time and now I demand a dance-off!”

“S-sure.”

“Yuri! Music!” Yuuri exclaimed and downed his glass. “Let’s see if I can dance better than you.”

Victor was going through the mental equivalent of a meltdown complete with panicking crowds running around in circles, not knowing what to do.

The Eros music started to play.

“If I win this dance-off,” Yuuri said, “you will tell me who is good enough for Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor opened his mouth. Yuuri put a finger to his lips. “No, not yet.” He was close enough for Victor to smell the alcohol on his breath.

_How drunk is he?_ Victor wondered.

“Can you do my Eros routine better than me?” Yuuri challenged Victor. He started to dance and there was nothing for Victor to do but join in. There was clapping and complicated footwork reminiscent of flamenco. It was footwork that required a lot of concentration.

“Do you know why I chose Eros?” Yuuri asked, going around Victor in tighter circles and always looking at him over his shoulder.

“N-no…” He tried to keep track of his feet and the conversation at the same time. How was Yuuri doing it while also drunk?

“If you win the dance-off I will tell you.”

Maybe it was the delayed effect of the vodka he’d had earlier, or it could’ve been the music, but it was most likely that it was the gleam in Yuuri’s eyes that swept Victor up like a whirlwind. They spun around each other and Victor suddenly felt as if _this_ was the real competition and not the one they’d had on the ice. They’d opened up their souls to each other in the skate, but in this dance they were hiding behind masks, trying to make the other person drop their guard. The tune sped up and it wasn’t even the same music anymore.

How long could he keep it up for? How long before his hands were numb and his feet were tired? How long before he ran out of breath? The adrenaline kept him going, but it would run out eventually. Yuuri was an unforgiving opponent.

He couldn’t even remember what they were competing for.

Yuuri grabbed him by the arms and pulled him close. “Did you learn anything new, five-time champion?”

“Uh –”

“Tango!” he shouted and the music changed again.

Yuuri unbuttoned the jacket of his suit and tossed it aside. He loosened his tie, as if it was chocking him.

Victor froze on the spot.

“Come on,” Yuuri said, taking him by the arms again, “surrendering so quickly?”

“No, I…” He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything anymore. “I… I don’t know how to tango!” he lied desperately.

“Yes, you do. Exhibition dance in 2012: tango with the winner of women’s figure skating. And before that in 2010 your free skate was inspired by tango.”

Victor listened in shock to Yuuri’s recital of his past programs some of which even he had trouble remembering on good days with a clear head.

“Well? Do you surrender?”

“Yes.”

“Then answer my question: who is good enough for Victor Nikiforov?”

Victor gulped and licked his dry lips. This was it. “You are,” he whispered.

“Don’t give me that! ‘Oh, Yuuri, there is someone else’ you said. Who is it?”

He was definitely drunk. Very, very drunk. And so attractive it had to be illegal.

Yuuri sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll hear about it from Phichit eventually.”

And then the meaning of Yuuri’s words sunk in. “Hold on, you said I told you there was someone else. But I said that to…” he stopped.

Yuuri gave a sad laugh. “Who is it? Have you been seeing someone else all this time?”

“We… went dancing,” Victor whispered, “flamenco in the street…”

“And then I bought you a gold watch.”

“And then there was that dinner with Yakov and you texted me.”

“Yes, and then _you_ showed up and would barely hold my hand!”

Victor stood still and stared at him. “That was you?”

“Yes. Who else could it be?” Yuuri turned away.

Mila appeared next to them then. “Victor! I’m so sorry, I made a mistake! I meant to introduce you to the _other_ Yuuri, not this one. But then, it is an _easy mistake to make_ , isn’t it?”

“O-other Yuuri?” Victor stared at her and then at Yuuri. “But he just…”

“Hello, moron,” Yuri Plisetsky said, pushing Mila out of the way with his elbow.

“Meet the two Yuris!” Mila exclaimed. “Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetsky!”

Victor’s mouth opened and then closed multiple times, but no sound came out.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Mila asked with a wicked grin.

“No, no, of course not!”

Yuuri stared at him, then at Mila and finally at Yuri Plisetsky. “What’s going on?”

Mila laughed. “You see, Victor here thinks there are two of you, Japanese Yuuri! Maybe just one isn’t enough for him.”

“Two of me?”

Victor felt the blood rise to his cheeks. “Don’t you have a twin?” It sounded really stupid the moment the words left his mouth.

Yuuri gave him an odd look. “No.”

Mila continued laughing. “He may be five-time world champion, but he has a brain the size of a peanut!”

“That was you? All… all of it?”

Yuuri looked like he finally understood exactly what was going on. “Yes.”

There was only one thing to do in a situation like his. Victor grabbed Yuuri and kissed him. He pulled back almost right away, embarrassed by this sudden impulse. Yuuri pulled him into a second kiss.

“Now I’ve got you, I won’t let you go,” he whispered.

Mila laughed. “Finally!”

A loud catchy tune started to play and Victor heard the Russian Yuri shout, “Come on, тёзка, it’s my turn now!” He got between him and Yuuri and there was a smirk on his face as he said, “Victor can spend his time with the _other_ Yuuri while we compete.”

Victor put a hand over his lips as he watched the two Yuris compete. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Japanese skater. He wanted every second of that evening to be forever captured in his memory.

The catchy tune ended and both Yuris stopped dancing to catch their breath.

“Well?” the Russian Yuri asked.

“Katsuki wins!” someone shouted.

“What do you mean he wins?” Plisetsky yelled back. “Who said that? I demand a second round!”

Yuuri grabbed Victor by the arm and pulled him onto the middle of the dancefloor. “Join us!”

Mila shook her head and searched around for Phichit. The Thai skater was busy snapping photos of the dance-off. She hoped he’d caught both kisses. She herself managed to catch a shot of Celestino giving Yakov money and wondered what _exactly_ they had bet on. It was probably not the sort of thing coaches should bet on, but she had a strong suspicion that Victor and Yuuri would get their revenge in the near future.

Phichit joined her as he pocketed his phone. “I asked a friend to record everything, so…” He offered Mila his hand. “Shall we dance?”

“Why not?”

The music ended before they could start.

Victor, Yuuri and Yuri bowed to one another.

_Terra Incognita_ , the music from Phichit’s free skate program, started to play. Phichit gave Plisetsky a surprised look.

“You’re welcome.”

No one saw quite how it happened, but thirty seconds later all of the Grand Prix Finalists (both men and women) were doing a synchronized dance led by Phichit Chulanont, who felt on top of the world at that instant. Even Plisetsky looked like he was enjoying himself. Next to him Otabek repeated the moves with a serious expression on his face.

_I can’t wait for the videos of this!_ Mila thought happily.

Yuri managed to set up the music so that the songs alternated between faster and slower ones to let the dancers catch their breath and pick what they wanted to dance to.

They were all exhausted by the time the banquet was over. It was only then that they discovered that Victor and Yuuri had disappeared.

 

Victor and Yuuri wandered the streets of Barcelona, sometimes staying silent for a long time and sometimes talking about everything all at once. Those were the moments when they suddenly felt the need to tell the other person everything, but a third observer (and this time Yuuri was certain that there wasn’t one) would have been surprised by their choice of topics.

They stood still, looking out over the sea.

“This reminds me of home,” they said almost in unison and laughed.

They lost track of time and only realized it when the sky began to lighten and the sun rose slowly out of the sea. A wind picked up and played with the folds of their clothes.

“It’s strange. I’m not tired, not even a little bit,” Yuuri said.

Victor put an arm around him. “I could walk around with you forever if you asked.”

“Let’s go have breakfast.”


	13. Good Byes

This time the first people at breakfast were the happy couple themselves as Phichit discovered when he walked in that morning. Mila came in right after him. He heard her laugh, turned around and gave her a high five.

Mila sat down next to Yuuri and put a package on the table next to him. “I got this yesterday morning and didn’t get a chance to give it to you, yet. Happy belated birthday, Yuuri!”

Yuuri thanked her, wondering why she felt the need to give him a present. He unwrapped it, aware of the attention with which both Victor and Phichit were watching him. Finally he got through the packaging and pulled out a T-shirt.

‘Kiss me, I’m the seductive one’ read the text on the front of the shirt.

“I thought it would be a good thing to wear if Victor still didn’t get it,” Mila grinned. “Look at the back.”

The text on the back was ‘Kiss me, I’m the innocent one.’

Yuuri blushed.

“Put it on!” Victor urged him.

“So you can get confused again?” Yuuri asked and there was no smile on his face this time.

Phichit watched Victor freeze on the spot.

“I think someone is angry,” Mila teased.

“I’m not angry,” Yuuri said, putting the shirt away, “I’d just rather not think about this right now.”

_He’s upset,_ Phichit realized, _now that everything is starting to sink in, he’s going to be angry._ And then the penny really dropped. _He’s going to be angry with me._

He watched Yuuri, waiting for the outburst. Victor was just confused, but _he’d_ known what was going on all along. He and Mila. And neither of them had said a word about it to him.

Yuuri opened his mouth and Phichit braced himself.

The door to the breakfast room opened and Celestino walked in with Yakov. Celestino wished them good morning as he walked by. Yakov just nodded. The skaters stared after the coaches until they claimed their usual table by the window.

Phichit wondered if it was a good idea to change the subject and then sighed. “It’s all my fault,” he admitted.

“And mine,” Mila added.

“I’m not mad at you,” Yuuri said. He paused, as if debating whether his next words were true or not, “I’m not mad at any of you.”

_You are mad,_ Phichit thought, _even though you’re trying hard not to be. Maybe the real person you’re mad at is yourself, although that is not fair. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything that happens around you. Sometimes it’s other people’s fault and sometimes it’s just bad luck._

Yuuri put the shirt away and stared at the coaches’ table. Phichit recognized the expression on his face. He’d come to a decision and it looked like it wasn’t an easy one.

Phichit knew that once Yuuri made up his mind about something there was no changing it, but he thought a little nudge wouldn’t go amiss.

“I’m not going back to Detroit,” he announced. “I’ve decided to go back home and train in Thailand.”

Yuuri turned to look at him and finally a smile spread over his face. “I’ll miss you, Phichit.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Phichit pulled him into a hug. “You were the best roommate I’ve ever had.” Then Phichit pulled away and got up. “Treasure him, Victor.” He put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Our Yuuri is worth more than all the gold medals in the world.”

Victor nodded.

Mila got up to leave as well. “If Victor ever gives you any trouble, you can count on me to give him more trouble.”

 

Victor could tell that Yuuri was waiting for something, but when another fifteen minutes passed and it failed to appear he prepared to leave.

“Can you please wait here for me?” Yuuri said. “I need to talk to Celestino.” He walked over to the table where Yakov and Celestino sat. They looked ready to leave.

Celestino got up as soon as he saw Yuuri approach. Yakov remained in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

The breakfast room was emptying out. No one paid them any attention.

Victor watched Yuuri say something and then give a formal bow. The Russian skater felt his blood go cold. Celestino stepped forward and embraced Yuuri.

His voice carried across the room. “I can see you’re determined about this, so I won’t even try to talk you out of it.”

Yuuri just nodded.

“Then it has been my pleasure. This won’t be the end for you will it?”

Victor suddenly noticed that he was clutching his hands so hard they were starting to hurt.

Yuuri stepped back from Celestino and lowered his head. Victor couldn’t hear his words, but the boy’s body language said it all.

_Why?_

Yuuri straightened up and said something else. Celestino smiled and nodded. Bowing again, Yuuri turned and walked away from the Italian coach.

“Thank you for waiting,” Yuuri said to Victor.

“Why?” Victor asked hoarsely.

“Because I’ve decided I need a change,” Yuuri explained, taking Victor by the hand and leading him out of the room. “I’m going back home to Hasetsu after this. I haven’t seen my family in six years. I need to see them and I want some time to think things over.”

Victor’s grip tightened on Yuuri’s hand. He didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knew what to say, but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Yuuri was lost in thought. “Maybe I should’ve talked to him after the Gala…” he said quietly.

It was Yuuri’s decision, of course it was, and as a fellow competitor what could Victor say? Any words that came to his mind sounded artificial. How could he explain that this decision caused him pain?

 

It was almost Victor’s turn to skate. He stood by the ice, waiting for Otabek to finish. His hand was over his heart. For the first time he wondered if he would have the strength to skate. He still felt like he had a needle in his chest and a lump in his throat.

Yuuri didn’t look like he wanted to discuss his decision so he avoided the subject.

_No,_ he thought, _I’m terrified to talk about it. I’m afraid of what he’ll say. That he will tell me that I drove him to this._

He took a deep breath and exited onto the ice.

The audience cheered happily.

_Don’t rush away from me, Yuuri, not when I’ve found my happiness at last. Am I really so stupid that I can’t hold on to the best thing that has ever happened to me and keep him close?_

 

Celestino and Yakov sat next to each other at the Gala, watching the performances and reflecting on the way the Grand Prix had gone that year. One look at Yuuri at breakfast had been enough for the Italian coach to see that the Japanese skater would no longer be his pupil. He just hadn’t expected Yuuri to tell him about it so soon. He wished Yakov luck mentally, not daring to say anything aloud.

_They spent the night of the banquet drinking and saying more than they should have. They even had an argument. Each coach had his own definition of the “golden age of skating”. Yakov got lyrical over the days of the Soviet Union and Celestino tactfully avoided mentioning a specific five-time world champion._

_“Everyone came to practice on time and there was none of this messing about!” Yakov ranted and Celestino wondered if that was actually true. “There was certainly no one moping around like a character from a love novel!”_

_Celestino smiled. “Do you think we’ll get invited to their wedding?”_

_“Probably.” The words had a slightly sobering effect on Yakov. “Victor doesn’t have anyone, you know, not much of a family.”_

_“Then he’s found one at last.”_

Victor was the next one on the ice and for a moment the conversation ceased.

Yakov tapped his knee lightly. “Victor really understands this routine now. I suppose that’s one good thing to come out of all this. And now I wonder if I’ve been selfish all this time, keeping him away from it all.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are you sure? I am his coach. It’s my job to look after him mentally and make sure that his life isn’t just about skating. Watching him the last few days, I caught myself thinking that none of this would’ve happened if I’d encouraged him to date someone.”

Celestino patted Yakov. “You’re not his father.” _And it’s not_ your _fault._

“I am in a way. And now we’ve lost one of the biggest talents of our time.”

“We haven’t lost him yet.”

They sat in silence as the skate ended.

“Ah! To be young and in love again,” Celestino said wistfully.

Yakov made a non-committal grunt in reply.

Plisetsky was next on the ice.

“There’s always the next generation,” Celestino suggested.

“They all come and go, but we stay,” Yakov remarked quietly. “How many have I already seen through their careers? How many more will there be? How many failures and successes! And I always treated each one like my own…”

Celestino sighed and turned away.

 

Victor was reluctant to leave the ice. For a brief moment he’d felt some measure of release from it all. Now the pain returned with renewed strength. He avoided making eye contact with Plisetsky, who was due to skate next.

Yuri stuck out his arm to stop Victor as soon as he got off the ice. “Victor.”

Victor raised his eyes. “Where is he?”

For a moment it looked like Yuri had expected a different question. “Giving an interview.”

He hadn’t even come to watch Victor skate!

Plisetsky sighed. “They won’t leave him alone. Now move over. It’s my turn.”

Victor didn’t stay to watch Plisetsky. He walked on, not thinking about where his feet were taking him.

“I haven’t decided what I will do next.” Yuuri’s voice reached him. “I won’t comment until I’ve made my decision.”

“What made you leave coach Celestino?”

“The decision has nothing to do with Celestino. I just feel it’s time to change something. Please, it’s almost my turn to skate.”

“But!” the interviewer interjected. “I don’t understand. You’ve worked so hard to get this gold medal! Are you leaving now because you feel you’ve achieved your goal?”

Victor turned around then to see what Yuuri’s answer would be.

“No comment,” the Japanese skater said, turning away from the interviewer. “Please excuse me.”

Victor watched him go, saw the interviewer notice him, turned and ran in the opposite direction. It wasn’t a run, strictly speaking (it wasn’t possible to run on skates), it was more of a brisk walk, but he _was_ running away.

It was over! It was all over!

“–I’m thinking of a short vacation somewhere warm. You know like –”

“–No, no, my parents are meeting me after the competition at the –”

“–And then we’re going to Hawaii!–”

Victor locked himself in one of the bathroom stalls and hoped that no one would come in, not because they’d see figure skating legend Victor Nikiforov cry, but because he didn’t want to hear anyone else’s plans, hopes and dreams for the future.

It was over. The Grand Prix was done and it was all well and truly over! Yuuri was going home and leaving him to go back to St. Petersburg all by himself, which would be cold and lonely this time of the year. He was always loneliest in the days following his birthday and leading up to New Year’s, always seeing everyone else with their families and friends.

He’d have his great-aunt for company and usually he’d have his hands full of a dozen second and third cousins. For some reason he didn’t want to go through the New Year’s ritual again this year. And it really _was_ a ritual: his aunt cooking like mad for twice as many people than actually came, watching the same old movie they always aired on the main channels followed by the hours of concerts that felt so superficial. And then he would leave and wander the streets no his own in the early hours of the morning.

He was always too restless during the holidays to sleep.

What could he do? Could he invite Yuuri? But he already had plans! Why would he give up this chance to see his family? Victor put his hands over his face as the tears came at last.

His phone rang. It was Yuuri.

He cleared his throat and answered. “Hello, Yuuri!”

“Where are you? Everyone is looking for you.”

“Coming.” There was nothing for it, but to act as if everything was fine.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked as soon as he found him. “Your eyes are red.”

“It’s nothing.”

They walked together, taking each other’s hand instinctively.

After a while Victor asked as casually as he could, “Is your flight today?”

“ _Our_ flight is in the evening.”

“Our flight?” Victor repeated, not understanding.

“I’m inviting you to come stay with me. I got you a ticket so you could come with me. Happy Birthday!”

“Yuuri!” Victor pulled Yuuri into a hug. “You’re always spoiling me!”

“You’ll have to buy the return ticket yourself.” Yuuri returned the hug and then he pulled back and looked into Victor’s face. “You choose how long you want to stay.”

“You know there is a superstition that you’ll spend the new year the same way you celebrate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only the epilogue left, I promise.


	14. Epilogue: Coming Home

Minako Okukawa waited for Yuuri Katsuki to arrive at the train station. He had called his family to let them know he was finally coming back, so – naturally – she went to pick him up. After six years of absence he was coming home at last and with a gold medal too. She knew all about the rumours and had seen the photos of him with Victor Nikiforov. Trust Yuuri Katsuki to be so naïve! He was coming home with a medal when he should have been coming home with Victor.

There was a huge crowd of arrivals that she dismissed as people visiting their families.

She sighed. If only she’d had the chance to go to the Grand Prix herself that year! She promised herself that she would definitely go the following year and prepared herself for a long wait.

Finally Minako spotted Yuuri’s face. She lifted her hand to wave for his attention and froze. It was no wonder there was such a huge crowd at the station! Her passing thought had come true after all and Yuuri was accompanied by none other than Victor Nikiforov himself.

Yuuri noticed her and waved. Then he pointed her out to Victor and he waved as well.

Victor waved at her! She tried to calm herself down, but as soon as they got within earshot she knew that wasn’t going to happen and shouted, “Yuuri! Welcome back! Why didn’t you warn me that you were bringing Victor with you?”

Anyone in the crowd who hadn’t been watching them before definitely was now.

“Can I please have your autograph?”

“Can I shake your hand please?”

Every single passerby in the crowd turned out to be a fan in a matter of seconds and both skaters found it hard to keep moving. Victor laughed and worked his usual charm, causing one or two people to faint. Yuuri, who Minako remembered was uncomfortable being the centre of attention, was handing out autographs, shaking hands and probably kissing babies.

Ten minutes later they finally got a chance to greet each other properly and Victor explained, “Yuuri isn’t used to all the attention, so I had to give him a few lessons.”

Yuuri blushed.

“Which way now? Do we need to get a taxi?”

“It’s just a short walk from here,” Minako answered, wondering what other lessons Victor gave Yuuri.

They held hands when they walked and the looks they gave each other (that Minako pretended not to notice) said it all. _Well, well, Yuuri, who would have guessed?_

 

“I’m back!” Minako announced, walking into the main building of the hot springs. “I brought Yuuri with me! And… you’ll never guess who!” She grinned wickedly at the two skaters.

Hiroko Katsuki rushed out to meet her son and new guest. “Oh my!”

“Hello, I’m Victor Nikiforov!” He gave a little wave.

She laughed. “Well, of course I know who you are! My son talks about you all the time!”

Yuuri went bright red.

Toshiya Katsuki came out to greet them next. “And who is this good-looking foreigner? Wait! I’ve seen your face before, young man. Now where was it?”

Yuuri made urgent gestures, trying to stop his father from uttering anything he didn’t want Victor to know.

“Oh yes! You must be Victor Nikiforov. Very nice to meet you!” They shook hands.

“Why don’t you get settled in your room, Yuuri? And then you two can relax in the hot springs.” Hiroko beamed at everyone around her. “And after that we can have a celebratory dinner!”

Yuuri left in a hurry, as if he’d suddenly remembered something important.

Victor stared after him in confusion and then followed at a slower pace.

Minako watched him leave. “This is too much like a weird dream.”

“What’s all the noise about?” Mari asked, coming in from one of the rooms.

“Yuuri is back! And we have a special guest,” Hiroko answer.

“What? Why didn’t anyone warn me? I need to get a room ready.”

_I’m not really sure you need to do that,_ Minako thought but said nothing.

The bustle in the house was making her feel as if she, too, had come home.

 

“Yuuri, are you hiding from me?” Victor asked from the other side of Yuuri’s door.

“N-no!” He opened it and stood in the doorway.

Victor threw his arms around him. “Ah! I’m so happy!”

Yuuri lost his balance and they tumbled onto the ground together, knocking over a box in the process. Victor raised his head. Dozens of copies of his face stared back. The floor was strewn with posters of him.

“Hmm...”

“Aah!” Yuuri screamed and rushed around, trying to stuff them all back into the box as quickly as possible.

Victor sat on the floor and laughed. He stuck his hand in his coat and pulled out another poster.

“Why are you –” Yuuri stared at the poster in shock. It was a poster of him. “Where… where did you get that?”

“There were lots of these all over the station, so I asked one of your fans to give me one in exchange for my autograph.”

Yuuri blushed. “That poster is really embarrassing!”

“I think it’s cute. Although, I really want one for your Eros program.”

Yuuri’s face turned even redder. “I-I don’t think one exists.”

“Then I’ll just have to live on in hope.” Yuuri tried to hide his face with his hands. “Yuuri! I just had an idea: you could arrange for them to be made! I bet they will be very popular!”

“I’d rather not…”

Victor stood up. “At least I have the banquet photos. When I get back I’m framing them.”

Yuuri just stared. He tried not to think of his photos hanging in Victor’s apartment.

“Take me to the hot springs!”

 

The next morning Yuuri took Victor to the ice rink where the appearance of the Russian skater caused a great shock to the members of the Nishigori family. Yuuri stopped outside the rink to talk to Yuuko and together they watched Victor skate.

“This is all a bit like a dream, isn’t it?” Yuuko said after a while.

“Come on, Yuuri!” Victor shouted. “Aren’t you going to practice?”

“Right! S-sorry, Yuuko.” He rushed off to join Victor and exclaimed in shock when the Russian caught him and picked him up.

Yuuko rested her head in her hands. It was all so sweet!

“Heh! They think the banquet videos were big, well wait until they see this!”

She spun around and caught her triplets recording videos and taking photos of the two skaters. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Aww! Mom! The skating –”

“Put that way!”

“Please!” they whined.

“Right now!”

They hid their phones and cameras and went into a corner to sulk, still keeping one eye each on the skaters.

“You know,” one of the triplets whispered to the other two. “Yuuri’s friend Phichit was the one who posted all of those photos. If we send this to him, he could post it all for us.”

“But mom would still know it was us!”

“Yeah! And we’d get grounded anyway.”

“I have a better idea…” she whispered into her sisters’ ears. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

 

Victor and Yuuri sat outside watching New Year’s Eve fireworks. Victor’s arms were wrapped around Yuuri and Yuuri’s head was resting on Victor’s shoulder.

“How late do you usually stay up on New Year’s Eve?” Victor asked.

“Back in Detroit Phichit and I would usually celebrate until 2 in the morning. Most events ended around 2, anyway. What about you, Victor?”

“I didn’t go to sleep,” Victor smiled, remembering. “Usually I’d go for a walk around 4 in the morning. That’s after my cousins would calm down enough to sleep.”

“And how did you celebrate?”

“Let’s see… Around 6 in the evening I’d come to my great-aunt’s house with the tree and then we’d decorate it. After that I’d help her make the food and set the table. Around 10 my cousins would arrive with their parents. Then I’d dress up as Santa Claus to bring them presents. Usually I make them sing or recite poems in exchange for a present.” He smiled. “Darya dances for them. Then Santa would leave a present for “that lazy Victor who fell asleep in the next room”. And when I came back as me they would tell me all about it!” He laughed. “Maybe next year you’ll come and help me.”

“Oh no! I’m pulling you away from your family.”

“I’d rather be here.” Victor shifted closer to Yuuri and whispered, “You can dress up as Snegurochka.”

“Who is that?”

“Santa Claus’s granddaughter.”

Yuuri shook his head.

“What? Would you rather be Santa? I finally figured out how to get the voice just right, so I should do it.”

“I just thought… They won’t get their visit from Santa this time…”

“Oh, one of the parents will do it.” Victor made a dismissive gesture. “Everyone knew it was me, anyway.”

“Won’t your family miss you?”

“I promised to return soon.”

Yuuri put his hands over Victor’s and closed his eyes.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

“Hmmm…?”

“Let’s go skating!” Victor untangled himself from Yuuri and leapt up into the air. He grabbed Yuuri’s hands and pulled him up. “Let’s go right now! Come on!”

“H-how can you be so energetic? It’s 2 in the morning!”

“Why are you so sleepy? You’re usually awake this late.”

“And you’re not.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve! Let’s go!”

He dragged Yuuri off, not bothering to listen to anything the boy said.

 

To Yuuri’s great surprise, the skating rink was open and the lights were on, but there was no one around.

“Should we be in here?” Yuuri wondered.

“I don’t see why not. No one else is using it.” Victor tied the shoelaces on his skates and got up. “I want to practice that duet again. Hurry up!”

“Why? Victor, where would –” Yuuri saw the big grin on Victor’s face. He felt so sleepy, but how could he say no now?

They went through the routine twice. It was still hard to get it exactly right.

Victor spun Yuuri around him. “I have an offer for you.”

Yuuri stopped. Was Victor going to suggest they compete in pair skating? That would explain why he had his heart so set on getting this duet right. “What is it?”

Victor skated around him. “You look frightened. What do you think I’m going to say?”

“I don’t know. What are you going to say?”

“Yuuri, I want you to come to Russia with me.” He took Yuuri’s hands and skated backwards, pulling him along. “What do you say to that?”

Yuuri blushed. “I can’t ask Yakov to be my coach. He has several pupils already. He’d be too busy for me.” _And I don’t think he likes me._

“I wouldn’t recommend you take Yakov as your coach. He’s the wrong type of coach for you.” He waited for Yuuri to work it out, but when the puzzled expression on Yuuri’s face didn’t change he gave up. “I’m going to be your coach. If you’re willing to take as a coach a skater you beat at the Grand Prix.”

“Y-you’ll be my coach, but what about your skating career?” It was too much to take in all at once.

“I’ll continue under Yakov. I can’t leave now, can I? I’ll need to win back my gold medal. It won’t be easy, but that’s what will make it fun.” He turned away from Yuuri, skating under their joined arms. “What do you think?”

They went around the rink, skating through the routine for the third time. Victor picked Yuuri up and then lowered him gently onto the ice. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. And I understand if you don’t want a coach who will compete against you and has no experience coaching anyone.”

Yuuri turned away and the two of them performed the next few elements in perfect synchronization. _It will be hard for both of us_ , he thought. _I won’t have as much of his time as Celestino was able to give me._ He thought of the talks Celestino gave him before each skate. He would skate without them, he decided. He would learn how. He wanted to learn how.

_Each time you go out on the ice with your anxiety is a small success._

He smiled, “Let’s give it a try.”

Victor smiled back and Yuuri could see how much it meant for him that he’d said yes. “Good!”

Who knew what the future held? There would definitely be lots of challenges, but no one said he had to face them alone even if there was only one Yuuri Katsuki in the world.

And just then the future seemed full of any number of possibilities. (And as it turned out the next day, it was also full of lots of videos of their pair skate and strange rumours.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm finally done! Hooray!  
> Anyway, big thank you to everyone who read, commented and left kudos. Hopefully you enjoyed it!  
> Most of this story sort of wrote itself and past about the halfway point I was starting to wonder what would happen myself. And then there were two scenes that I rewrote twice.  
> Tune in at some point in the future for either a road trip story (which won't be an AU) or a Reversal AU (because we don't have enough of those). It all depends on which one I'm happy with first.


End file.
